The hum hums on.
So too do the clouds, though, which is nice—fiftyteen days without rain will get to you after a while. Probably out to take one more spin through the tomato vines out there, see if we have any late-late season strivers coloring up. Gonna have to fire up the lawn mower once or twice more here as we spin towards autumn. And that'll be nice: no chance of hearing the hum over the top of the mower. Which is what it comes to, friends and fans of looming institutionalization: if I can have a hum of my own making, I'm better off. Crank down that A/C. Grin a little when the icemaker bumps itself awake. Turn the little fan on low out back. Cover the hum with a hum of one's own.
Gray. Warmish. Humid as a bowl of water.
September.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Ambient Noise.
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Sometimes I can hear my own ears. Sometimes they are louder depending how I turn my head in bed. Sometimes, I follow the sound my ears make around the house and raise a racket, swear, pause, listen, swear, and then I am told it's a phantom sound by annoyed housemates. So, I say I hear my own ears but I'm not convinced it's imagined. I'm also not sure you were being literal. I hope so. Oh well.
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