do you hear that?

what sound does the earth make as it turns? is it a rumble too deep to hear and too light to feel? or is it a gentle whisper mistaken for white noise? i read the first question in a book yesterday and it presented itself to me last night while waiting for sleep to come.

as i sit here, i'm bombarded with a symphony of odd noises that are deafening when trying to sleep. the creaking of the space heater in front of me. the motor of the refrigerator. the dripping of the shower head onto my curtain. the passing of a truck a block away. the settling of the lid on the toilet. how can one sleep, let alone think, read, or hear the earth turning amidst so much?

the reason i go out and sit in coffee shops every afternoon is because with all the noise there, it takes a certain amount of effort to isolate each one and fixate on it, so in the end it all washes out and allows me to focus on something else. i suppose that's why they play music in grocery stores. maybe the sound of carts squeaking and footsteps pacing was driving the cashiers nuts. i've walked into bookstores without any music playing and it sounds like you've walked into a church and every shuffle reverberates even though the floors are carpeted. do they still play music in grocery stores? i'll have to listen next time. the last time the thought occurred to me, i was being taught about the ethics of putting in subliminal advertising into the in-store play.

what about the voice in your head as you think to yourself? has it always sounded the same? did the voice in my head get deeper as i grew older? is the only way to think to yourself by speaking? do others see sentences instead, like a novel or newspaper, or pictures even? i read an essay by richard feynman some years ago and he recounted a story about how he could count to himself and accurately tell when a minute had gone by as long as he didn't talk out loud. he would run up stairs, read a newspaper, but he couldn't talk. his friend was just the opposite. his friend could talk and tell when a minute had gone by, but he couldn't read. it turns out feynman was mentally speaking to himself as he counted one to sixty while his friend was watching a series of numbers slide by as he was talking. as long as the activity didn't interfere with their method of counting, they could tell a minute had gone by.

i used to play drums and i'm not sure how i kept time. maybe my bandmates might say i didn't, hahaha. seriously though, at moments in songs where we'd all stop playing and then come in at the same time without anyone taking the role of conductor, it's amazing it ever happened. i think the pre-performance drinks put us all on the same wavelength.