Resons for Joy No 143: Canons

Seated on the warm seat of the toilet this morning, I noticed my ring which I wear everyday all the time. It is a plain silver band with a gold cut out of a dog veneered onto the surface. The gold coulored dog is infact a labrador. I know this because I drew the ring and (through my sister) had it commissioned. So I'm telling you that's what it is.
Strange enough today, whilst repacking my backpack a coke I had just bought slipped off the recycle bin and whilst not busting open showed the tell tale sign of a rapid rearranging of carbonated bubbles that told me it would blow if I tried to open it now.
This is somewhat of a concern when dealing with cans, because once opened you cannot close them, but with bottles you can do the old break-the-seal-the-moment-the-bubbles-rush-up-close-it-again-and-repeat-as-necessary manouvre. Which I attempted to do.
There must be some different injection mould here though as when I did, it squirted out syrup all over my ring hand (my left hand) aka my girlfriend. This all happened quicker than said manouver, which is to say it happened pretty quick.
But still overall, the coke was settled, the problem was that my ring was all sticky with coke and clinging to my mid digit hairs, so I did what Anthony Mundene would have done and took it off and put it in my mouth to clean it. After sucking the residue off I put it back on my finger so all the universe was once again at piece.
That's the story of my dirty/sticky/filthy ring and how I sucked it and stuck my finger through it.
The point is not important.
But what is significant is that I noticed it today. It is amazing how things supposed to be constant reminders become virtually invisible in no time at all, I had a thumb ring that was silver that I got engraved with 'fortune favors the brave' in latin or italian. I can't remember the translation now, and stopped wearing the ring because it didn't quite fit right and was uncomfortable whilst riding a bike and gripping the handles.
But anyway, the ring was supposed to be a sign of my commitment to the labradorian faith. Not that it's details weren't sketchy, nor could I say really existent. But everybody loves labradors, so I figure gould role model.
Now that I think about it, does that mean I have some infantile complex, a belief that I need to be loved by everyone?
Maybe I will have to rethink my whole ethos, but the point of the ring is to be nice to people, and be full of joy.
Hence I thought I'd share with you something I feel we all can be joyful about, I'm sure all of us are more or less sick of quotes from Shrek but I think the Donkey quote about Parfet (something that dominated Brenton's memories of Nagoya) and how everybody loves Parfet, I think this is about on par with Parfet. As the title of this post may suggest, what I'm suggesting is: Cannons, and to a lesser or greater extent fuges.

I think everybody enjoys a good cannon, from the most well known 'row row row your boat' to the intricate compositions of Bach, which if you want to get into Classical music, but don't want to start with anything as passe as being another Mozart groupie, then Bach is the place to start.
He used fuges which where repetitive use of the same essential composition, but played ontop of one another and could be in different key's and octaves and that sort of shit. The overall effect is joy. Joy is the result of such an effect.
Now one may suggest that Bach is easily replaced by modern day's looping technology, I imagine that if you bringed Bach from the past to present day, he would straight away be down at his local shopping mall, with a harpsichord and a stool, with poorly laminated signs of his achievements and newspaper cuttings from the MX laid out, stomping occasionally on a foot pedal to indicate beginning and ending of a loop and come up with some Joel Turneresque rap lines and rhymes to go over the top.
The point of the time travel experience is that neither time nor technological advancement can diminish the joy of fugues and Cannons.
It may when someone points out that if Bach is alive in present day, cause trouble over the whole intellectual property thing, only lasting 75 years after the artists death, Bach could possibly singlehandedly bankrupt the entire community funded symphonies of this world, making him the richest man ever.
But I'm sure in his insurmountable wealth, he would not be able to spend his leisurely days better than beltting out the odd fugue or cannon.
Then I turn back to the past, but a more rescent past which is today, on my train ride home. Books written by Gaijin in Japan tell you to expect to get stared at, a lot. This is true, they also advise not to stare back because staring is considered rude. This can make for some awkward escalatory train travel, when you return the stare of someone who keeps staring at you.
Anyway today my starer had an Alibi, I was having a joyous day where I enjoy loud music, which is the same music as every other day, just turned up loud.
So it could be that the static noise of my external-to-the-ear clip on headphones where preventing him from sleeping.
I find the usual train past times dreery on Japanese trains, which include staring at foreigners, staring directly into your mobile phone and sleeping.
Where are the weirdos that talk to you and give you advice on how to truly be happy? Where are the mentally challanged people wearing collingwood gear or bumbags? Where are the elderly italians passionately debating something of no consequence like the price of cucumbers? Furthermore where are the other people listening to trance music, dance music, hip hop or mobile phone ringtones?
This is what creates a joyous atmosphere.
I have in recent days stepped up my campaign of train commute joy by starting to dance, nothing too revealing, just a bit of the old shuffle of the feet and nodding the head to the beat.
And about that time I clicked onto 'Midlife Crisis' by Faith No More. There all stares where forgotten, all feelings of guilt that I was not politely bored shitless like everyone else evaporated as the Cannon of that song exploded into my consciousness:

you're perfect yes it's true sense of security
but without me you are only you my pocket's jingeling
your menstruating heart Midlife crisis
it ain't bleed enough for two suck ingenuity down through the family tree
sense of security you're perfect yes it's true
my pocket's jingeling but without me you are only you
Midlife crisis your menstruating heart
suck ingenuity down through the family tree it ain't bleed enough for two
you're perfect yes it's true sense of security
but without me you are only you my pocket's jingeling
your menstruating heart Midlife crisis
it ain't bleed enough for two suck ingenuity down through the family tree
sense of security you're perfect yes it's true
my pocket's jingeling but without me you are only you
Midlife crisis your menstruating heart
suck ingenuity down through the family tree it ain't bleed enough for two

so it probably is more complicated than that, but that section there was tedious enough to write and suffice to say, if you haven't heard Faith No More's midlife crisis do your self a favor and listen to it as soon as humanly possible, if you haven't heard it you haven't lived, at least not a life full of joy.
I thought, in this day and age of the ipod, what is the technilogical equivalent of the ghetto blaster? then I could truly share my joy with the commuters and we could all dance together.
That is my joy lesson of the day.
I don't know if that is what labradorian belief requires of me. yeah, the previous sentance pretty much sums it up.