Finger-Deep Within the Borderline

by goose at 02:27 AM on November 04, 2002

I’m craving a concert. I would say I'm like a sugar junkie in need of a 200 decibel pack of Ho Hos, but I've never even once had a Ho Ho, and so I’m not qualified to make that analogy. Shit.

It's been an unprecedented seven weeks since my last eardrum shattering session, so my ears are starting to emerge from their shell shock, and I'm hearing things I shouldn't. Superman, I feel your pain.

I spent my entire childhood wishing for X-ray vision, and here I get super-hearing. The irony is deafening.

Beyond a limit, aural input is quite awkward. Twice today, I answered the phone when it rang, but both times no one was on the other end. I suspect my scheming roommate might have purchased a dog whistle, but he's not telling me. The bastard.

For the past week, I've been pillow-muffling my head snugly because of nocturnal squeaks and thumps from the ceiling. I was sure they were due to some very enthusiastic neighborly love, but as it turned out, the guy upstairs has merely taken up Tai Chi.

On Friday night, I was hearing people say things they didn't, but that's entirely unrelated.

Most of all, I'm growing bored with the ability to pinpoint the whereabouts of small insects in my apartment via echolocation. It's great to be able to save money on fast food like that, but I place more value in my metal shows. As the first step, I'm going to see an unknown little band called Tool later this month, and I plan to wear earplugs up until then.