Somewhere in Oklahoma, 2010


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1 year ago

For a long time I thought that somewhere in the literal wilderness that is my southern boundary someone was inexplicably and secretly running a loud generator, an electrical sub-station, something that required a lot of power and hummed to itself. It took a year for the noise to get louder to realise it was everywhere my right ear pointed. The matter of life and death was resolved in my favour and so the doctor’s dismissal by an MRI, but I still have to live with it. I mentioned once before (Did I? My memory and my imaginings share space), I have convinced myself of the sound’s meditative, insomnia-calming properties, which has been good for me, helped by its frequency… but I still run a low-grade anxiety about its unknown origin. The cliche of “infernal machines” comes to mind, as if my autistic, hypersensitivity, my hyperacusis, has tuned in to some chthonic radio station. My occasional return to the city drowns it and quiets it on return for a few days. It certainly inspires divergent thoughts… I still haven’t seen “Memoria” though.

(I’ve talked a lot… I do that, I’m sorry. I am always enthused, inspired, delighted by your writing. I wish you (a partly-selfish) well in your writing, per your other blog post).

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