A Sound Effect is God or at Least
Harder to Kill than an Airplane
If I could be anything in the world,
I would like to be a sound effects record
of various airplanes in flight.
Airplanes sound powerful because - they are!
Sound effect records of airplanes in flight
sound powerful not because they are, but
because they know the right people, like,
for instance, sound recording engineers, and
also they know airplanes without whom none
of this would be possible. They know airplanes
intimately.
These things are the rosin on the bow of the
violin of the airplane in flight before it does
a power dive.
Their hearts beat in unison during a barrel roll.
Whose hearts? Their hearts.
Imagine a dusty recording studio, a bunch
of recording mics, a guy, or even several
guys, all in white shirts that are rolled up
to the elbows, and many cigars lying around,
in ashtrays. Filthy ashtrays, and a palpable
anticipation.
Now imagine putting all of that stuff in a
big Waring blender and turning it on to -9-
which is -liquify- and waiting around a few
minutes. Watch the violin bow fly out.
There is nothing like the sound of a steady wire
whine of a dying DC-2 motor as it plummets
to earth.
No one knows the DC-2 anymore. It walks
amoung us: silently, regally, old. Once he
was the king. Now he is silent, regal,
old & bald also.
I am glad that I am a sound effects recording
of it, and not it per se, or at least I am glad that
this is what I want to be, instead of it really,
which I don't.
You can do what you want!
As they say on vinyl: start on the outside,
and work your way in.
Please Marry Me
I could see by
the way that you
turned your eyes
down to the ground
that you did not like
being called a
marshmallow floating
in a river of butter.
We are so different.
I thought it was a
compliment and I wish
that I had said it.
You thought it
was not a compliment
and you wish that it
had never been said.
I like toast with honey
on it.
I do not think that you will
ever tell me if you like
even toast, much less when
it has honey on it.
Or who said it. Who did say it?
I walk home and feel sad
because I cannot think up
things like marshmallows floating
down rivers of butter.
You ride a bicycle home and eat a
marshmallow as you look out the window
at the sun sparkling like diamonds
on the buttery river. My buttery river.
