You have not listened to a word I have sung
—Jack Spicer
Sometimes I wake up singing. I remember
there were a few months, close to when I
was down with Covid, I think? Anyway, I’d
wake up for mornings, like a month of morn
ings, speaking. I’d be talking distinctly. It
would become less distinct the more awake
I got, so it wouldn’t last very long, but what
I was saying, well, what I was saying was
never clear in the end. Perhaps if you’d have
been there you might could tell me. But I do
know that each morning I woke up that way,
I’d solved one of the world’s biggest problems.
It could have just been my problem. It’s quite
vague, but I had the solution, of that much I’m
confident. It’s not like when I wake up singing,
which I’ve done on again and off again for as
far back as I can remember. It’s a bit rare, but
waking up singing is easy – it means I’ve gotten
up in good spirits, a rarefied good. That is what
I did just now, I woke up singing. If you were
here, you might could tell me what song it was
here, you might could tell me what song it was
that I was singing. Yes, I bet you could. I do
wish that I could. But I just don’t remember.
