Fire Alarm

For you completists, the fire alarm here at the Cannon Building has been ringing for several minutes now. This happens often enough that I am continuing with my usual routine. There is almost never a fire, although I did once wake up with a fireman in my living room telling me, at 3 in the morning on a winter night, that I had to go stand outside.

I live on the third floor, so I had to do what he said. Although I did put my clothes on. My studio, on the other hand, is on the second floor. So if worst comes to worst, I can exit through the window. All that said, there's almost never a fire so I've learned to take these things with a couple grains of salt.

Update: The alarm has stopped. Perhaps it burned up in the fire.

I had oatmeal for breakfast and I'm listening to Kat Edmonson, whose stuff is pretty good although her voice is girly enough as to make it an acquired taste. Jazzy stuff, kind of like Nelly McKay but without the loathsome self-indulgence that renders Ms. McKay a truly annoying listening experience.

Quick lyric by Ms. Edmonson:

I stole the only girl I loved
And drowned her deep inside of me
You ... soft and only
You ... lost and lonely
You ... just like heaven.

You have to hear it to see how she draws out those 'yous' -- three syllables each -- but wow, what a song. And loathsome might be too strong a word.

Ahem...
Yes? What?
I probably shouldn't say.
Say what?
Well, just the notion of you labeling somebody else as loathsomely self-indulgent seems, on the face of it, to be the zenith of hypocrisy.
Wow. Don't hold back. Let me have it.
I do have more, if you'd like.
Stop. I retract my previous statement.
Which one?
The one that says don't hold back and that you should let me have it.
So you're saying you don't want me to let you have it?
Precisely.
Realizing, as I'm sure you do, that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush?
Yes, realizing that very thing.
Okay. Perhaps some other time.
Perhaps.