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."
-----
“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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