The Difference Between Us

The Flaming Lips “Convinced of the Hex”

“Convinced of the Hex” bleeps and thuds uncomfortably like a malfunctioning Silver Apples tune, but as mechanical as it sounds, it makes me think of the brain as a wet, throbbing organ running on sparks and jolts. The song’s textures suggest a splitting headache in the bits of grey matter that make you feel lonely, isolated, and trapped, but it also evokes the image of zapped, squishy flesh stuck in the tight, claustrophobic space of a skull. It’s gross, but also sorta groovy.

I am starting to think that my problem lately may be that I have become convinced of the hex. When I hear Wayne Coyne utter that phrase in this context, it sounds damning and vague but entirely correct. I focus on the worst, and make myself believe it. My mind is fogged with bad logic, and I poison myself with misdirected anger. I may be cursed, but increasingly, it seems self-inflicted. How do you become un-convinced of the hex? Wayne isn’t offering any clues here.

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