that hissing……, it’s there all the time….

…sometimes, i hear it more galactically-stentorian than at other times.
the “i hear it” link above recalls the first time i wrote about this sound.
the second link tells you that i have, for the first time, used the word “stentorian” properly, almost, i think.
it used to be that i would have occasion to hear it, that hissing-maybe-tweeterish-humm, “at times.”
a tweeter seems to follow me wherever i go.
i’m hearing it all the time.
it’s a medium-high-pitched quasi-deafening tone that might be trying to keep me from thinking about everything that’s on my mind, or at least that’s what i’ve been telling myself. i tell myself loads of things.
it’s not working.
i’m thinking of all the stuff that’s in my head AND that hissing-universal-whine sound – in that order. i don’t need the sound of the original big-bang to resonate between my ears, but i guess i’m stuck with it, at least for now.
i believe we hear the sound of the universe before we become the sound of the universe.
if i have time to utter my last words, i wonder if mine would be “hey, what’s the racket?”
the natural decay of my hard-drive’s ability to focus, to maintain a thought, works better than that sound if distraction is its purpose, or maybe there’s no purpose at all. maybe it’s all that it is, the sound of the ever-expanding universe, like those guys discovered some time in the late fifties or early sixties, i don’t quite recall when, but they got some sort of prize, maybe from the nobels’ for all i know, for charting this sound and giving it an equation or some-such something.
lately, i’ve been wishing that this sound or humm or hiss could envelope me and get me out of here for a while, like a vacation to “the eighth-electro-plasma-ocean of the ninth dimension” because i need a break, plain and simple. i go there sometimes but it’s only for a period of time so brief that by the time i get there, i’ve been back for years it seems.
these little sparks of electrodream that propel me every now and again could never be what might be considered “restful.”
confusion to the 25th power might look like a walk in the park.
some people might mistake this for serenity, others for senility.
surprise! i don’t even know what i’m talking about.
the only thing i DO know is this; the sound is there with me now more than ever. and i can tell you when it started to get louder…..that hissing, but later about that.
i’m going to intersperse these ramblings with photos i took these past days. some will be photos of familiar places and others will be performers who have appeared at goodbye blue monday.

the night of the snow that made the bicycle all beautiful like it is, crazy and the brains played in the store. crazy wears the hat, the brains is hatless, obviously because he needs to let his brain get air.
maybe that’s my problem. too many hats.
good music. listen to them at their link.
they’re so proud to have made it to broadway.

right around the time that this snow was happening, something else was in the air. my previous posts involved a trip to portland, oregon. i spoke about oddnesses involving our inability to meet.
right around the time of this snowstorm….
by the way, this is the broadway that still has quonset huts, not the one that has a broken heart for its every light, something that not till now did i realize was a song by the velvet fog, mel torme, a guy i met the same day i was pulled into peggy lee’s dressing room, something that is explained in that link right there where her name is. but back to broadway…….this is snow on broadway….

this is snow on a quonset hut on broadway;

this is the broadway that mel torme was talking about and was a block away from where peggy lee got my hat and me in the dressing room;

but i digress.

i was on my way to talking about strangenesses in the air and how the hissing that envelopes me might have something to do with altered cellphone transmissions or at least the inability for two people continually stymied by the fates, villains (yes, there’s a villain. there’s always a villain) and circumstances to not be able to join hands, be further saddled with the inability to have verbal contact at such times that would, for some moments, try our faith in each other.
i’m sure early abandonment issues never go away, and if that’s a safe assessment, then it might have enough weight to get me from youth to adulthood with a slew of justifications regarding anything i want to blame anything or anyone one on propping-up all or any of my addictions, bad behaviors or vicious and evil manipulations.
i would use all of this until it didn’t work anymore, then decide to grow up.
in growing up, i would begin to accept all sorts of stuff and find myself “getting my shit together” or trying my level-best to, at least.
odd how all this goes out the window when the unexpected rears its multifaced-head in the guise of silence.
finding myself thinking hopefully about a stranger from decades ago has been no doubt, an adventure. i have no illusions (well, not many at least) about a lot of things, but the strange, wondrous relationship i’ve formed with her has me sitting before my computer screen talking about this, as it’s a celebration of all that’s good and worthy of this past year and possibly the past decade or so, as far as i can figure.
imagine that.
this might be construed as either extraordinary or i haven’t done much with myself lately, which i sure don’t believe to be true.
all i need to do is look at my bills.

the new year is in, however they work it.
it doesn’t matter much to me. i don’t care about when decades begin or end, what the aztecs said or what’s going to happen in 2012.
goodbye blue monday is celebrating downstairs below and next door to me. the bass and drums reverberate through the building’s walls and mix with “the sounds of africa” that wkcr is playing on my old 1970’s panasonic hifi with like-old klh speakers…..

above is two-thirds of said stereo system. the other speaker is there, but not there, if you get my meaning.
sort of, like me.

……..but about this hissing sound that snakes through my ears and my hastily-formed conspiracy of cosmic laughter, dumb luck, faulty cellphones at terribly in-opportuned times, proposed luncheon dates, the fabric of time, fortune, matters of luck and surgical skill all at furious play at a table in the corner of the big casino that i am not privy to enter, the velvet ropes extending from this desk to “the eighth-electro-plasma-ocean of the ninth dimension”.
that’s about as close to a prayer as i’m getting tonight.
after driving to the beach a day or so after the big snow, i hoped for a brilliantly desolate gateway national park and this is what i got;

“hooray,” i thought, “not a car (except mine) and what’s more, not a car with a grifting lizard out to pick my brains,” so i unleashed maxx and off he went, occasionally turning and running back to show me how happy he was – i aimed, shot and ducked left, though i considered taking the crash but was worried about water in the camera after impact – see? there i am thinking like an adult……toldja……

we would go to the nuclear missile sight and shoot “the christmas launcher” something that i will write about in my first children’s story about the lonely, forgotten nuclear launcher that wanted to be reformatted and machined to become a carnival ride.

i’m still working on it.
seems every time i try to develop it, it ends up being possessed in one way or other and there’s carnage and all sorts of bad, bad stuff, or everyone at the carnival gets cancer, so then i try to make it a happy cancer, but alas there is no happy cancer, believe you me.
and every time i think about people who are at odds with this disease, i feel the wooden part of me tighten and harden, like the stitches are back in my neck, like when i just came back from the hospital.
i think of my friend constantly. so does my wooden neck.
the part of me that had undergone the cancer-war-process, the word “wooden” pertaining to the hardened texture the area feels to the touch, is something that the students are instructed about – last time by yours truly – when the doctor was attempting to explain what to look/feel for when examining post-surgical folks like me and he may have felt self-conscious about using such a word in my presence, so i offered it because i remember that when i heard another doctor use it i said, “yeah, that’s it, thanks!” because i couldn’t find the word myself and information was power in this moment.
it made us all feel good.
have i ever gotten to the point about the phones?
about lost communications and how we both felt like we failed each other because our phones no longer operated properly? that we were both abandoned by and because of technology just in time for christmas?
i could go on, but there’s too much. too much. too much.
it’s no fun.
fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la, la

About stephen trimboli

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