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Bloggy Blog #67

  Once every couple months, I get fed up with the squeaking storm door and spray some lubricant onto the hinges. Sometimes I'll put a little straw thing at the opening, in order to keep the lubricant a steady stream onto the afflicted area. Other times I am either drunk or lazy and just wing it without the straw. If it sprays the area, good enough for me. They're just door hinges, right? The strange thing with this door's squeaks is that it elicits a different sound after every elapsed period of spraying the hinges. As if the hinges wish to sing me the songs of their people. At first I don't mind the melodic sounds of metal rubbing against one another, but once it begins sounding like a screeching hyena top forty jam, it's time to take action.
Since I tend to uproot every few years, I've yet to find the comforting sounds that reassure me this place is alright. The closest thing here so far might be the faint noises of church bells some six-hundred feet away around the corner. At least that's the church I think they're coming from. On a clear night, when rush-hour traffic from the adjacent street pipes down, I can make out these bells at the top of the six, seven, and eight o'clock hours. Subtle, tranquil chimes while I slug back cocktails on the patio, pretending to write.
I've never been a fan of background noise. I don't do concerts or bars with live bands playing. That's not to say I never have, they're just not for me. I usually work in peace. No music, no television. Boring, perhaps, but quiet. Solitude. My own thoughts. I dig that. 
Growing up there were two key sounds I remember. The most constant one was the gate latch opening and closing. Our house was completely fenced in, with stockade-style fencing in the back and a honeycomb pattern metal gate up front. With the soft clink-clank of the front gate latch, even with my bedroom facing the back of the house, I could tell if someone was coming or going. 

The other sound occurred in the spring and summer. A softball field about a mile away, its public address announcer reading inaudible batter names and game scores. On the most calm summer evenings, you could sometimes make out the metal bat pings and small crowd cheers, the soft glow of stadium lights over tall trees and rooftops. 

By far the worst background noise these days is everything politics. That's not to say I'm not paying attention, because I am. I'm just actively choosing not to listen to it. Seems pretty ridiculous given how the media works these days. Almost every article - actual words, you know, to read - comes with a corresponding video that more often than not auto-plays as soon as you scroll onto it. Sometimes there's no actual article, just a dumb video link. My favorite are the articles that repeat verbatim the voiceover you hear in the video. 

Since the days of the Presidential campaign trail, I've kept my laptop volume off. I refuse to listen to the gibberish on both sides, from the shills to blowhards to otherwise fraudsters pining for votes and attention while bullying others. There's no sense in having to subject your ears to that sort of garbage. I haven't heard the President's voice in months, and you know what? It's a great feeling. I've yet to listen to anyone in his administration, anyone opposing it, and all those in between who think soundbytes & video clips are the new journalism. And if it is, that's fine. Our growing shorter attention spans probably need that. But, you can also read what these people say. In silence, if you'd like. It's quite the refreshing feeling, muting all the white noise. Or bullshit noise, really. 

So, the next time you're on the receiving end of a stress headache, annoyed beyond all ends, and begin looking for a bottle of something to cope, try something simple first. Turn your volume off. Stop listening. I mean, keep reading, sure. Reading bullshit is way less vexing than having to listen to it. Over and over. On multiple channels. All day and night. Seven-person panels analyzing the hell out of it. For days on end. Remember, reading is fundamental. Forced listening is...repugnant. 

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