enemy mine

today the baron is thinking about the drum kit in her basement. about how there is nothing easier than to pick up a pair of drumsticks and bang the hell out of the snare drum, and about how there are few things harder than banging that snare drum in perfect 4/4 time. and harder still is banging the snare drum in 4/4 time while incorporating the high-hat (on the 1 and 3 counts) and the bass drum (on the 2 and 4 counts). harder even than those things (which are very hard indeed, having three of four limbs moving independently of each other) is trying to think up those things the husband calls 'fills', which are (the baron supposes) variations within the beat to make the beat more interesting. the fills should always be done while keeping time otherwise you RUIN THE SONG. see how hard? and the worst thing about it is that after all that effort and sweat, the baron is forced to admit that she didn't even dream up very imaginative or original beats. sigh.

you've become very tired reading this post with all its talk of times and fills and snares.

the baron would otherwise have become very tired with the effort of recollecting and describing these things, but burned into her brain is the image of her patient husband clapping his hands in 4/4 time so that she can keep up.