Play me a song...

So I was knocked out on Benedryl last night (something to which I am becoming deliciously addicted to) when I hear the Ba-Ching! of doom indicating that I have a new text message. I rubbed my inexplicably puffy eyes (seriously. I've developed some sort of weird skin condition and my eyelids have been swollen since Monday) and look at the cable box. 2:45. Shit. I grab my phone and it's the boy. He's text-messaged me to let me know that Kurt Vonnegut has died. I assume he thought I needed to know this at 2:30 in the morning because before he discovered the Television Without Pity book, my copy of Breakfast of Champions was his preferred bathroom reading when he was at my apartment.

So after I called him and ascertained that indeed, that was all he needed to tell me and nothing else bad was going on, I tried to get back to sleep. But I couldn't. Not even the siren song of Benedryl could lull me into a slumber. Then I realized I had a Billy Joel song stuck in my head. I didn't know how Vonnegut died, but maybe my subconscious thought it was a "heart attack-ack-ack-ack-ack," because I had "Moving Out" playing on a continuous loop in my brain. So naturally my thoughts turned to Billy Joel. Or more specifically, the ghost of Billy Joel.

Now, I'm aware that Billy Joel isn't dead. However, I don't think this precludes Billy Joel's ghost from knocking about. And what if he did? What if Billy Joel's ghost visited you and hung out and gave you advice and stuff?

It would be amazing.

You'd have Billy Joel, at his piano, kind of floating over your left shoulder and just hanging out with you as you went about your business. He would play songs for you as you walked down the street, but if you were tired of hearing "New York Minute" for the frillionth time, he would be totally cool with you busting out your Ipod while he just tinkered quietly with some new material.

But the ghost of Billy Joel is so much more than a soundtrack. He'd give you advice as well. And since he's at his piano anyway and always trying to add to his canon, he'll sing your advice to you.

"Woahh, woahh, ooooh, girl. Dontcha go givin' that guy your number. He looks like he'll eat all of your food and then ask to borrow your metrocard and never return it-it-it-it-it-it. Oh, yeah!" Totally helpful, right?

Sure, except there's a downside to ghost of Billy Joel. He'll hang out with you and give you advice, but all of his advice somehow always ends with you crashing your car into a tree on Long Island. That's why, at roughly 3 am. I made the decision to hold out for the ghost of Elton John.