Strangers in the night June 17, 2008
Posted by David Gillespie in intent, philosophy, work/life.trackback
Yesterday I got a call from a number I didn’t recognise. A few of my friends make a habit of ignoring those calls, but I’m always up for a new conversation (hence my details being freely available). I picked up and said hello in my usual fashion, and then heard some scuffling. I thought perhaps a friend had left her phone unlocked and accidentally dialed it form her hand bag, and then a song started playing.
Quite bemused I sat listening. It was a country-ish sort of tune, pleasant to the ear but I couldn’t make out the words. A couple times I heard the phone move, no doubt the caller checking to see if I was still listening. After a few minutes the song finished, and the person hung up.
Maybe I should find the whole thing a little strange, and to a certain extent I do. Whether it was a wrong number or a person trying to convey a message that didn’t quite reach me, who knows? They obviously had a fairly definite intent with what they were doing. We all at times make moves that seem so obvious to us, while others stare on completely bewildered.
Intent is a funny thing, and a world away from execution. Some days further than others.
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Creative Is Not A Department 
It’s official. Bravo. You’ve got yourself a stalker. The next logical and compulsory step towards induction in the Rock’n Roll Hall of fame.
So the message was evidently in the song. Was it perhaps “Achy Breacky Heart”? That would surely be a message of luuuve… by a person with very bad taste – AND I assume here it was Billy ray Cyrus’ version. If it were William Hung’s, you should probably call the popo with no further delay.
Or was it perhaps Cash’s “25 Minutes to Go”? That would not be good…
“My Boomerang won’t come back”? I’m not sure what the intent would be, but it sure would have an Aussie theme.
Next time you do not recognize the number, turn up the volume!
I wish I had a stalker. I wish he played something else than country though.
Thanks to you I now have Frank Sinatra in my head.
Do. Not. Recommend. Stalkers.
I had an online/intercontinental stalker who somehow managed to find out where I lived, what my phone number was and certain intimate details about me.
What really creeped/crept(?) me out though, was that he started writing rather graphic erotica about me.
I stopped blogging. And then he blogged hatemail at me.
Nathlaie – Hmmm…when I finally got around to having a stalker I was *sure* it would be because I’d been on the cover of Rolling Stone. Thankfully it wasn’t Billy Ray, it was more Ryan Adams-ish. Clearly they’ve also been into my house and taken a look at my record collection.
Oolong – Frankie! How long I been on pallie!? =] Your story is hilarious. Probably not for you, but I guess in a realm where your blog was your pulse, ceasing to blog means you die in a sense, perhaps the hatemail was them simply grieving? Very creepy, but fascinating none the less.
Oh, and creeped/crept? I have no idea.