Sunday, April 03, 2005

Things I've heard about...

Overheard today at the Pancake Cafe:
A boy of about 8 years was at a table near us fervently relating to his parents and most of the restaurant a tale of his day. He was speaking in that voice peculiar to young boys, so loud his voice was nearly straining, but casually; not with any agression or particular excitement. Almost as though he was reading to too big an audience. His inflection generally went up at the end of sentences, but not as much as, say, Californian gen-x chics do.
"So I was talking after church with Mrs. Felling and we were speaking in Spanish because she speaks Spanish and so I asked her how do you say I Love You and it's Te Amo and I told her I think that's a really good name for a dog."
I practically cried- marriage is making me a sap- and now I think we should get another dog and name it Te Amo.

There were countless red-winged blackbirds trilling and cardinals whoopwhooopwhooopwhoop weeeeting today when we rode our bikes to town. And there was one spot on the trail, like so many other marshy spots we passed except this one was riotous with frogs. We decided they must have chosen that place over all the others for the schools. Or the taxes.

We heard a foley artist interviewed on the radio the other day. They're the folks who squish watermelons and rattle things to make the sounds you hear in movies. He said that if you encounter something totally out of your experience you will most likely not register it at all. (That's why they like to use everyday objects for most of their sounds.) The unknowable becomes invisible to you, like pitches too high or low for your brain to interpret. They enter your ear, they even stimulate your hearing mechanism like perceiveable sounds, but your processing center doesn't know what to do with them. I think that's why it's hard to wrap your head around resurrection. (my head)

Further proof of Gillian Welch's lyrical prowess:
Oh the night came undone like a party dress
And fell at her feet in a beautiful mess
The smoke and the whiskey came home in her curls
And they crept through the dreams of the barroom girl

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