Friday 27 March 2015

I Have Lost My Voice

It is last week.   I have lost my voice for a week, due to a sore throat.

And the crowd goes wild.
It’s just the kind of thing that would teach a sitcom character an important lesson about listening. 
I am not a sitcom character.

Most of us have an internal monologue, and most of us use a filter to keep it internal.
I, too, have a filter, but choose to employ it selectively.  So, I say things even though – or even because – they are of no interest to others.
So, below is a list of things I might say out loud but don’t because I have lost my voice.  Most are in response to specific things other people are saying.  (Shorn from this context, they are probably more interesting, I don’t know.)

Things I Would Say But I Don’t Say Because I’ve Lost My Voice

“I would be a rubbish sitcom character.”

“Utilised is a pretentious way of saying used.”

“I’ve lost my voice.  It will probably turn up behind the couch HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.”

“Mr Picky was my father; call me Clayton.”

“You don’t own energy, it can’t be conserved.  It dissipates if not utilised.
This is why we feel better, and when we use more energy, we have more energy.  This is the best example I have experienced of the Buddhist principle.  The one about If You Want Something, Give It Away.  Or Something Like That.”

“OHBUGGERIVEGOTAGIGNEXTWEEKANDICANTSPEAK”

“I overhear a teacher, leading a class of children on a trip, saying:
‘Guys, can we be sensible?’. 
And I think:  'What's so good about that?' 
And:  'Fuck off'.
And I think:  'Why do kids never say that to teachers?' 
And realise I am haunted by the missed opportunities of my youth.
(Like when teachers said ‘It’s up to you to study, I don't care, I've got my degree’, and I didn't retort: ‘Fuck off then, do something useful with it, instead of condescending to us. Prick.’
(I hated teachers that asked who could be the most grown up. I always thought: ‘Well, if it isn't you, what are we all doing here?’
(Being a grown-up is just knowing about things like radiators or how to change bank accounts, or how to end a short-lived relationship…)))
(The above would probably form part of my stand-up comedy routine, which I have been working on for the past several years and which, if you’re really, really lucky, you will never hear of again.)
All of this occurs to me in the time it takes for a teacher to lead thirty-five excitable, chattering seven year-olds down a busy street.
And then I write a haiku and recite it:
Teacher Haiku
Hated my teachers
Some of my friends are teachers:
The circle of life”
-----
“I watch an interesting film at the weekend, and I want to talk about it.  It is animated, and is called It’s Such A Beautiful Day.  The fact that I am unable to talk about it (out loud) is ironic, given what I think about the film and its themes.”
-----
“I sing to myself:
‘That’s me in the corner,
That’s me in the spot   light
Losing my vocalisation.’
It makes me giggle more than once and people look at me funny and I don’t have a voice to obfuscate shyly and pretend to be normal, so I don’t, and pretend to be strangely interesting and enigmatic instead.”
-----
“How come comedians always have
Really funny laughs?
The same reason all barbers
Are bald.
Ha fucking ha.”
-----
“My mate Richie just sent me a stack of demo recordings, they're ruddy brilliant.  He's done it again."
-----
“I am singing the following songs to myself, some once, others in a seemingly endless loop which suggests I am outside time, in a suspended animation of repeated melodies.  I know I’m not, I’m not mad, I’ve just lost my voice:

Monday
Brandenburg, Beirut
All My Trials, Joan Baez
Into The Shadows Of My Embrace, Why?
Sunday Morning, Velvet Underground
Nantes, Beirut
Both Sides Now, Joni Mitchell
I Wish You Were Here, Carter USM
La La Song, Low
Tuesday
I Don’t Owe You Anything, Sandie Shaw
The Crane Wife, Pt. 1 & 2, The Decemberists
Code Of The Streets, Gang Starr
(Nothing But) Flowers, Talking Heads
Wednesday
Legionaires Lament, The Decemberists
Eyes On The Prize
Something So Right, Paul Simon
Thursday
Mr Petersen, Perfume Genius
Sing, Travis
Graceland, Paul Simon
Richard Cory, Simon & Garfunkel
So Far Around The Bend, The National
Elephant Gun, Beirut
Band On The Run, Wings
Friday
No Surprises, Radiohead
Reel Around The Fountain, The Smiths
The Green Fields Of France, Eric Bogle
I Won’t Share You, The Smiths
Inertiatic ESP, The Mars Volta”

“This blog seemed like a good idea, but it’s not my best work is it?
No, I know.
Sorry.”

Things I Probably Won’t Say Even When/If I Can (I Know Myself Too Well):

“How can I get rid of you very quickly so that you can’t offend my senses any more – hey, you know, like Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now?  No?  Just fuck off, then.”

“My mate Richie just sent me a stack of demo recordings,
OHMYFUCKINGGODITSAMAZINGLISTENTOTHEMORILLKILLYOUIMFUCKINGSERIOUS”

“All our boundaries are negotiable, temporal
Sometimes just arbitrary,
Mostly supple and malleable
Rarely necessary, but occasionally useful
And always, always contestible.”

“Maybe losing my physical voice will help me find my literary voice.
Maybe not.”



It is liberating, in a way, to be freed from the shackles of language.  But the shackles of non-language, although interesting (even fun) as a temporary arrangement, would probably be much worse in the longer run.  I probably am listening more.

Thank God I’ve got a voice and this blog and songs where I can get all this out and I don’t feel the need to tell you to your beautiful faces all the time, so that I can pretend I’m normal and you might like me.  Or I can pretend I’m interesting.

Either way, I’ll probably do it with words.


Words are cool.

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