Gradual hearing loss brings unexpected blessings: I shall name but two:
- An inability to overhear the conversations of strangers.
- An inability to hear programmed music in übermarkets.
Lisa and I will be sitting at a table within earshot of others and I will be enjoying the still of an enveloping bubble — it’s like a meditation garden, monastery or babbling brook: a way around the babbling of maddening Babel. Couldn’t hear it if I squinted my ears.
Cut to the chase, Bill. Your annoying alliteration and meager metaphors test us to the teeth, they crawl into our craw, they bites our hands, they gnaws our feet.
Privacy without private spaces. Lisa will burst forth with OMGs and WTFFs and I’ve not a single clue to her consternation nor inspiration. By the bye, we’ll be a 25-year item next year, we’re now able to decipher misstated and unintended word misses and annoying affectations. We also assume the identities of avatars: German moose and Italian owl.
Listen Bill, you are dancing to the tune of thin ice. Life is to be gotten on with, not sallied about in the figments of a forest, feeling the fauna. Get a grip and move on. We sincerely hope you get the help you need.
Some years ago I packed my ears with sound deadeners to shop without agony. Such is the life of an agoraphobic tree-hugger. When I could hear proper my ear canals became desecrated by ear worms from worn tunes of outrageous decades, looping indefinitely. Gradual hearing loss now permits me to wander the aisles without mulling music lyrics and the likes, dislikes and “likes” of fellow shoppers.
Are you not also one of those annoying people who trundle about with a rücksack on your back, Bill? Do you deny this unfortunate character flaw?
I plead guilty with conviction and with impunity. A backpack permits right and left hands to page-flip a tome, pick up the ultimate stone or dead-head twigs along an arboral path. A pack on the back frees pockets, it supplies the only items necessary for a becoming existence: spare books, blank paper, full pens and what-the-nots.
I live in the land of the frenetic and the home of the Atlanta Braves (Atlanta was once the home of the Cherokee Nation), a left-handed vegan with a name at the tail of the alphabet, a card-carrying member of Jewish Voice for Peace (you do not have to be Judaic to join), a believer in the inalienable rights of all sentient beings and a speaker on the pompetous of love.
I leave this writing moment with a ponder. What reveals the following photograph from Houston Harvey? How might I convey the moment?
Thanks for reading.
billziegler1947 
I think that photo is completely bizarre and I’m not Vegan but close. Backpack and scandals.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Hi Robert, Thanks for the reply, I appreciate it most sincerely. That photograph does cause pause, it got me to thinking about how the produce department of a supermarket is likewise not cleared out.
Being close to vegan is a very big deal indeed, as indicated by the photograph as well. Treading light with backpack and sandals is a great lifestyle 🙂
LikeLiked by 3 people
I have hearing aids, but don’t wear them ALL the time. Sometimes silence is golden. But, we will need some of it to hear one another when too many people are around–or, we could retreat to another room. Something to consider, bro.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Terry 🙂 Marketplaces do not offer too much golden silence, particularly if you suffer from ear worms. Mishearing does lead to misunderstanding — but it’s also funny, so I don’t take looking on the bright side of life to a “Life of Brian” level 🙂
LikeLike
LOL That last picture is oh too familiar. To be sure, we had no problems shopping for food/drink post-disaster. It was funny what was awkwardly missing from the aisles (spam, Vienna sausages, ramen noodles) if not sad; no wonder Americans are so fat and unhealthy.
I don’t look forward to losing my hearing, but I ntil I do, will frequent places unlikely to be squat by such absorbed loud-mouths that make a mother’s jaw drop. Or go to the superstores in the early morning hours where such people are likely still sleeping at home. Easy fixes, but not as easy as cotton in the ears. ‘Pompetous of love.’ There’s only one song I can think of where that was quoted before …
Great post, Bill!
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thanks for the kind remarks, I hope that you guys are faring well in the wake of Harvey.
I heartily agree that the predictable aftermath of shelf-clearing is so very “SAD” (Sad American Diet).
But meaters insist that the photograph clearly demonstrates how awful vegan must be. I do not recall ever seeing empty shelves in the produce department either.
“Pompetous of love” comes from Steve Miller’s “The Joker”
LikeLiked by 3 people
You might tire of me saying, but I’ll it say anyway. You’ve got a great way with words, Bill, even if you can’t hear the sound of them.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you most kindly, Peter,
I enjoy sculpting each post and discarding many electrons in the toiling process, so compliments do indeed help, they are gratefully received and they encourage me.
Speaking of hearing the words, I like the sound of early softwarized weather radio — “in Indianapolis show-ers and THUN-der-storms, in Columbus show-ers and THUN-der-storms… Unfortunately, newer software is smoothing out the robotic chunk-talk, I prefer THUN-der-storms 🙂
LikeLiked by 3 people
I’m a left-handed vegan too Bill!
Always eat my burgers with my right.
😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you verily for the directed comment, Hariod — methinks you eat those burgers on wry 😉
I am the only vegan in the household so far, and am known as ‘Leftover Man’. It’s a nod to my propensity for waste management, don’t cha know. Innit? Or is it waist management?
Whatcha know, Bill? Well, roughly, I know that twenty centuries of stony sleep were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle.
And now I see that ‘leftover’ has a left on the left to complement my leftish leanings. Now a superhero costume with a large L troubles my sight.
What’s left to say?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hugely entertaining post Bill as always, I second Peter, you have a fantastic way with words.
Twenty five years – how marvellous!
– Esme sending love to them both from upon the Cloud
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for those kind words, esme 🙂 My green-italicized critics might suggest that you’re simply adding fuel to the fire by encouraging me: they would be right of course, I like to word wright (and to spite those ne’er do well naysayers) 🙂
LikeLike