Day 1
Dear Journal:
Something funny happened to me today. On the way to work, that Barry Manilow song, Copacabana, came on the radio. People like to make fun of Mr. Manilow, but it sure is a catchy tune. I even sang along. It felt good. Anyway, this afternoon a coworker caught me in the bathroom whistling the tune. Boy did we laugh about that!

Day 2
Dear Journal:
How weird! Today in a meeting, I started quietly humming the Copacabana tune. I didn’t even realize I was doing it! No big deal, but it was a little embarrassing, let me tell you. It sure is funny how a song can get stuck in your head like that.

Day 3
Dear Journal:
Couldn’t sleep last night. Copacabana kept running through my head. My wife got tired of hearing me mumble “her name was Lola, she was a showgirl” over and over, so she made me move to the couch. I can’t blame her, really. I’ve been listening to an old Bruce Springstein album to try and get Copacabana off my mind. No luck so far. Dozed off once for a few minutes, and dreamed that Barry Manilow killed The Boss.

Day 4
Dear Journal:
Copacabana is starting to affect my work. Words to the song keep showing up in the computer program I’m trying to write. Haven’t slept for two days. My wife decided to go stay with her sister for a while. She said she just couldn’t take anymore. Got email today from the Barry Manilow fan club. It started with: “You’re one of us now”. How did they get my name? I’m a little scared.

Day 5
Dear Journal:
I was fired from my job today. I don’t know what got into me. I just suddenly snapped and started loudly singing Copacabana at an important meeting with my division director. It took three security guards to get me down off the conference table. I think it must have been lack of sleep. I can’t go on like this. This afternoon I visited a hypnotherapist to see if he could help get that song out of my mind. When I left his office, we were both singing Copacabana. Still unable to sleep. Mostly I just cry. And sing, of course. Copa…Copacabana. Help me.

Day 6
Dear Journal:
Barry Manilow must die. I have purchased a handgun and some silver bullets. I have finally come to realize Barry Manilow is Satan. Spent all night on the Internet tracking down his address. Just bought a plane ticket. It won’t be long now.

Day 7
Dear Journal:
On the way to the airport, I heard “Mandy” on the radio. It’s kind of a catchy tune. I can also hear Barry’s voice inside my head now. He tells me to do things. Bad things. Finally, it all makes sense. It’s like in “I write the songs”, when Barry says: “My home lies deep within you and I’ve got my own place in your soul.” I think Barry wrote that just for me.

by Joe Shockley, October 7, 1999