Suddenly everything has changed
Wayne Coyne, one time employee of Long John Silvers and wearer of the accompanying Long John’s pirate uniform (complete with pirate hat and shirt), has famously related in reference to that particular job that 'mindless work has its merits.' Whether this first foray into the well-oiled gears of industry (oil which would invariably become coagulated and clog like the arteries of the people who eat this questionable fare) later translated into the costumery of the performer’s stage show will probably remain one of the great mysteries. But I cannot help but think that old Wayne, standing there in his pirate’s uniform and talking in the garbled gab of the Long John’s employee, addressing patrons as though they were actual deckhands on a pirated ship between shifts on the Fryalator, was somehow invoking me. If only my work shirts were so cool, and came with the accompanying pirate speak.

It is another day at the working place—another day among another day. This is life in the thirty-three and a third lock-groove theory. You get stuck in the same patterns, the needle repetitiously grooving, warbling out its muffled hiss, and never breaking free from its course. You get tired of the sound, get up, put another LP on. This is the way we live our lives. This is the way we spend our time.

I am looking over at my coworker now (pictured below), slumbering on a fifteen minute break, and wonder what LP she’s listening to. I think she’s into country music, but I’m not entirely sure. In the life as repetitious LP paradigm I would probably assign her something from the slow-core music genre. Or who knows what? (The obvious chink occurring when someone in the audience stands up and says, Hey, man: Lps are out, you guys need iTunes accounts).

Office work is a strange gig, a strange deal. It’s weird to spend a large portion of your time in an environment with all of the stimulation strategically sucked out. Any small hindrance becomes an arena rock concert of the sensory experience. Two weeks ago a rancid and coagulated coffee was found festering under my computer, causing my IT director to spazz out completely. This became the talk of the office for three weeks. I couldn’t go to the bathroom without someone coming up to me in the hall and really ribbing me for the admonishment received. But this line of work is not without merit, in a Wayne Coyne sort of way. And I almost can’t help but think what would happen if I came in to work wearing a pirate’s outfit, replete with sterling accents and a coarse yell, out-wayneing even Wayne himself.