Yesterday, I had to leave work early with a crippling migraine. Migraines can be very boring things. They make me sensitive to sound and light and my eyes won't focus, so I can't read or watch TV. Once the headache starts, any wrong move can reduce me to tears or even make me throw up, so I can't putter around the house. All I can do is lay in the dark, sipping black coffee, and wait for the throbbing to fade to the level where I can sleep the rest off. Just me and one of the cats, sitting and humming (me, not the cat).
When a migraine starts, the lights go dim, color fades from the room, and I become dyslexic and confused. I'll become anxious and stupid. Sometimes, Clever Wife will find me wandering from room to room complaining about the lights. She takes my hand, puts me to bed, and makes me some coffee (caffine is the only drug that helps). As the migraine ends, my senses make up for lost time. Colors become unaturally bright, my thoughts race along, smarter and clearer than usual, and I feel exhilarated to be alive. No wonder some people interpret migraines as religious experiences (see, Hildegard of Bingen).
Yesterday wasn't one of the religious kind of maigraine. It was the simple, sitting in the dark, humming to the cat kind. As my mind began to clear, I began to make up lyrics for songs. For a while, I had a whole musical going, but most of it's gone now. All I have left are one verse and a concept.
I call it "Talibornagain: The Musical." It's the story of Tom, Rick, and Bill's bogus revolution. It stars self-proclaimed moral defenders, menacing men in black robes, and, not one, but two media conspiracies. I'm not sure whether it has a happy ending or not.
Here's the opening number:
Way down South
they have a name
for cops and dogs and law.
Bubba's a cop,
'Ol Blue's a dog,
and they call the law Shariah.
Shariah, Shariah, and they call the law Shariah.
I'll throw it out to the community and see if anyone can think of some good dialog and new songs. Or not.