One week from tomorrow, I'm going to be a participant in an all-day University of New Mexico study of a neurological phenomenon that Wikipedia describes as occurring when, "stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway."
In other words, those of you who have always suspected I'm the oddest duck in the pond can now stamp a big-ass ol' scientific word right on my forehead to explain it all: Synesthetic.
I didn't know I was synesthetic until recently. I think it explains a lot. Or, at least, I plan to use it to explain a lot. Like, "Why no, officer, I didn't realize I was doing 112 in a 45 mph zone, I have this condition, see . . . " Or, "Those shoes? Uh, no. They're not new. I've had them for ages. I'm only just now getting around to wearing them."
Why, my wonky neural pathways could even be the reason why about once a week or so my brain decides to snatch me from the lulling embrace of a dead-to-the-world sleep and plonk me in the middle of a series of day glo bright dreamscape adventures whose convoluted plots and blaring MTV-style soundtracks all seem to make perfectly good sense at the time. Zac Posen-wearing Ninjas? 'kay. A superpower that allows me to spew fire out of my nostrils? Sounds about right. A secret assignation in a Berlin bar in which, in between puffs on one Camel Light after the other, I am speaking flawless Russian while "I'll Be You" by the Replacements thumps along in the background? Cool.
Only, now? I want a cigarette, a drink, and I can't get the song out of my head. I wanted to share it with you because "I'll Be You" is one of the greatest pop songs ever written, but dumb ass You Tube has disabled the original video and all that's left is this scratchy concert footage from somewhere in Rotterdam in 1991. So if you want to hear it in all its fabulousness, you'll have head to iTunes and download it. By the way, it's colored purple.
