Sunday morning, lying on a cushion, the cat dreams in silence like a cat knows how to do.
I read a study where scientists played music for apes to see their reactions, anything from Pachelbel’s Cannon to Cat Stevens, from Swiss mountain music to German house. All of the music turned up no results. It was all just noise to the apes. Except one. The only music that had any reaction nearly put the apes to sleep. They calmed, and made their way onto their backs. What were these serene melodies? Metallica. Metallica to apes is like Enya.
I used to listen to a college radio station that played jazz late nights. The DJ on at midnight had a raspy voice that sounded like too much second-hand-smoke in lounge after lounge. At the end of each show, as I pulled up to my house to some much needed rest, his sign off was this, “If you can’t sleep, don’t count sheep… Count Basie.”