Do songs ever make you think in pictures? And books?
Do you ever think you're nothing more than some kind of synesthesic mess, just a big tissue of references and cross references and nothing is anything without a meta in front of it?
Or is it just me? Is it because working on a sunny Saturday afternoon just messes with your mind?
Either way, my cognitive pathways are a bit jarred.
So I hear Plastic Palace People and I see Chagall and flying people and I see young Billy Casper and hear Barry Hines' words.
It's quite a melancholic mix, let me tell you. Extraordinary. Tell me that I'm not on my own here. Anyone else?
I suppose I should just be grateful that it's not a slab of meat.
Listen: Scott Walker - Plastic Palace People
Buy, it's less than £3 and, frankly, essential.
I'm off for a long cold drink in a dark room.
Oh - for those of you who might have/heard of colour synesthesia, apparently John Donne's poems are all red and orange. But that's another post entirely.