Message-ID: <alpine.NEB.2.00.1108220416170.8311@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.wvu.edu>, Wryting-L <WRYTING-L@listserv.wvu.edu>
Subject: Azure and the calls at night
Date: Mon, 22 Aug 2011 04:19:31 -0400 (EDT)
Azure and the calls at night http://www.alansondheim.org/clik0.mp3 http://www.alansondheim.org/clik1.mp3 http://www.alansondheim.org/clik2.mp3 http://www.alansondheim.org/clik3.mp3 http://www.alansondheim.org/clik4.mp3 http://www.alansondheim.org/clik5.mp3 Azure, whose hearing is best, heard the clicks all through the night in the West Jordan development; they were lost on me. One or two, that's all. Later, processing the files, I came up with the above. Some unfamiliar and quiet insect, call and response across trees and lawns, temperature 78F, humidity 33%, high for here. Our skin feels like it's disappearing. The clicks are haunting, almost in audible, some in series, some seemingly isolated. Their structure is odd, a quiet primary before the loud secondary, followed by one or two - not echos, but deliberate signature. For myself, I realize how poor my hearing is, and I wonder constantly what my instruments sound like to others; like Beethoven, I ride a crest of sonic coherency, surely half reconstructed in my mind. I couldn't hear, out there in the still of the night, what Azure heard; I was in tears...