Sunday Morning Coming Up or Warm Heart Pastry

So this guy wakes up at 2am. He’s thinking about a song by Todd Rundgren that may not exist. He doesn’t have a song stuck in his head, just the subject matter of the song—people who come to to your house and spill stuff and, I may be paraphrasing: “dropping their ash on the my floor”. He can think of two other songs that deal with this issue. Mike Heron’s Warm Heart Pastry and then there’s that Liz Phair song and he’s 99% sure there’s an Incredible String band song too

and he’s not thinking that just because of warm heart pastry.
screenshot of iMessage.
He thinks he’s discovered, or is helping to define a genre of song. Songs that deal with people who hang around for a while and leave cigarette burns in your carpet and then get on with their lives. You don’t necessarily have to like, love, or hate these people.

He’s stuck now because he can’t define the people any further. He thinks he loved some of them (which doesn’t fit the mold of the songs), knows he hated some of them and he realizes that “like” doesn’t have any place in a pop song unless it’s a novelty song which the British seem to favor.

He wanted to end up with an axiom in the wee hours. But the scientific method doesn’t suit him.

“The well-known aphorism, ‘A mathematician is a device for turning coffee into theorems’, is probably due to Alfréd Rényi, although it is often attributed to Rényi’s colleague Paul Erdős (and Rényi may have been thinking of Erdős), who was famous for the many theorems he produced, the number of his collaborations, and his coffee drinking.” [1]

But this isn’t over man. Oh no man, this isn’t fucking over.

The sky circa 1979
The sky circa 1979

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