Bach: Day 1

Bach: Day 1

Today I awoke, well-rested, and listened to Bach's 2-Part Inventions on the way to work. To be honest, I didn't really enjoy the music. It was pretty bland, except for Inventio No. 15. I've decided that if I have physical relations with a woman this month, this is the piece of music that will be playing. It's sharp, energetic, and will surely loosen a lady's legs. More importantly, at 52 seconds long it will give me more than enough time to achieve and lapse into post-coital unconsciousness.

One thing I noticed about the incessant Bach soundtrack that will be permeating my life for the next 30 days is the emotional weight it gives to seemingly mundane tasks. For example, today after work I put on Bach's Air Suite while I cooked eggs on the stove; the music gave the scene a heightened sense of drama. It was almost as if I was in a pretentious David Lynch film (in which my bastard alcoholic minority brother was trampled to death by chickens and I am forced every day to choose between getting my protein needs and being haunted by his death). I must admit, there *might* have a been a few tears added to the egg sandwich on wheat toast that I consumed for supper. Maybe.

I also attempted to lift weights to the music of Bach. It was hell. At one point I found myself staring forlornly at a burned CD entitled "Motivation". I knew what was on this CD: Springsteen, the Stones, Elvis Costello, AC/DC...maybe even a little classical, but not Bach; it would be Beethoven or Wagner, the kind of classical music that gives you the sudden urge to invade Poland.

Instead I had to return to Bach's dainty little melodies.

Later in the evening I saw Ramsey. Outwardly he looked normal; however, upon closer inspection I noticed a faint tinge of redness around his eyes and a barely perceptible curve to his spine. In addition, he seemed to be breathing heavily from his mouth. This supports my theory that in 30 days Ramsey's nasal passages will have absolutely no functional value, rendering him a total fucking *mouth-breather!

It will be increasingly interesting over the next 30 days to watch the Metallica slowly disintegrate his soul. I imagine his white blood cells are already working feverishly to combat the poison that he is willingly shoveling into his brain. Soon it will not be enough. I predict that by Day 14 we will see a utterly broken man. Over the last two weeks of the experiment we will be left to observe the slow circling of the drain of a once respectable human being.



*(Ed. Note: click on the mouth breather link. The last sentence under the "Social Perceptions" heading reads, and I quote, "Fans of Thrash Metal are known to be chronic mouth breathers". Ha! That just made my week.)