Point me towards the swim-up bar

One of my massage playlists (okay, most- apologies to those clients with weak/easily-influenced bladders*) features the gentle sound of water accompanied by a slow (snail-like, really) plonking piano melody. It’s just a beat shy of aimless, actually, and when I say “plonking,” you’re just going to have to take my word for it. Alright, sometimes there are some “plinks” in there as well.

During an extended massage session Saturday, the water was trickling merrily along and the piano was steadily plonking away, when my zentality** was shattered by an acute awareness of each… hesitant… piano… note.

(In my book: "Good" massage music = something that can easily be ignored for 45-120 minutes at a time.)

Plonk! (pause) ploonk (pause) PLINK! (pause, pause) and out of nowhere comes this rage-filled (red-faced, throbbing-neck-vein) voice in my head roaring Just! Play! The DAMN! Note! Already! Play it! “Plink plink plink!” Play the FUCKING NOTE!

It was a good moment to make a mental note to switch out some of my massage music. And maybe calm the fuck down a little. I’m guessing unspecified homicidal urges/violent rages are probably not what one looks for in a massage therapist.

* Easily-influenced bladders!  Set your boundaries!  Stricter curfews!  Monitor their interactions with questionable peer groups!

**zen mentality. (TM) Quinn, Nothing Notable, 2008

1 comment:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I expect to see "zentality" to be in heavy rotation by others in the comming months.. I'll be looking, er, listening for it.

11:37 AM  

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