I am currently listening to a hum no one else in my house can hear. They say it's in my head, but ai feel the vibration in my feet on the floor. Your article made me decide to listen in a different way. I got my headphones and turned on the app that amplifies ambient sounds. It picked up all kinds of other house noises, but the hum remained the same. Perhaps it is in my head after all. Thank goodness it only comes occasionally.
I become mesmerized by voices on the radio (or podcast, I'm old.) Content does not matter, just the quality of the voice. For some reason, the voices of Native Americans does this for me. Come to think of it, so does Noam Chomsky's voice.
I never thought about diagnostic listening, and how my experience can be defined like this. There’s this piano piece I find hypnotic, not for its crystalline piano sound, but for the way the recording captures the mechanics of the piano and the pianist. I hear each keystroke like clicks on wood, the sustain pedal creaks as it's pushed down and released, the delicate swish of dampers lingering. It;s like listening to the piano body moving and breathing together with the inhale and exhale of the pianist. To me the harmonies are just accompaniment to all these. The inner workings, the overlooked, become essence. The piano piece is Mrs and Mr Smith - Mischa Blanos.
Schweet! I've sat in the city with my eyes closed, or on the porch listening to birds in the grove. The 369° audio spectrum, sans other senses, intuitively seems like pointellism. Disconnected but points in the space relative to each other.
I love the word enchanting. It’s so special. I wish I could feel this more. When I’ve felt it, it’s happened when I get caught outside unexpectedly in a snow storm. First, fear. I momentarily fear I’ve gone deaf. There’s no sound. But so many other sensations happening. I recently learned that snowflakes absorb sound. So that lack of sound is real. That lack of sound is simply enchanting.
With appreciation for Megan Arnold's missing word, I submit this word for her approval. Preciouspice: the point at which a favorite, well-worn article of clothing teeters between broken-in and the rag pile. (Derived from "precious" and "precipice.")
I am currently listening to a hum no one else in my house can hear. They say it's in my head, but ai feel the vibration in my feet on the floor. Your article made me decide to listen in a different way. I got my headphones and turned on the app that amplifies ambient sounds. It picked up all kinds of other house noises, but the hum remained the same. Perhaps it is in my head after all. Thank goodness it only comes occasionally.
Very interesting, thanks for that!
Just another form of tinnitus, I guess.
I become mesmerized by voices on the radio (or podcast, I'm old.) Content does not matter, just the quality of the voice. For some reason, the voices of Native Americans does this for me. Come to think of it, so does Noam Chomsky's voice.
Rent the tv series Northern Exposure. Lots of Native American wisdom.
You know how sometimes you read something and it delights and enchants you - this post was it for me this morning. Thank you!
Oh that's great, thank you :)
I never thought about diagnostic listening, and how my experience can be defined like this. There’s this piano piece I find hypnotic, not for its crystalline piano sound, but for the way the recording captures the mechanics of the piano and the pianist. I hear each keystroke like clicks on wood, the sustain pedal creaks as it's pushed down and released, the delicate swish of dampers lingering. It;s like listening to the piano body moving and breathing together with the inhale and exhale of the pianist. To me the harmonies are just accompaniment to all these. The inner workings, the overlooked, become essence. The piano piece is Mrs and Mr Smith - Mischa Blanos.
That's a great connection, thanks so much (and I'll have to give that piece a listen!)
Schweet! I've sat in the city with my eyes closed, or on the porch listening to birds in the grove. The 369° audio spectrum, sans other senses, intuitively seems like pointellism. Disconnected but points in the space relative to each other.
I love the word enchanting. It’s so special. I wish I could feel this more. When I’ve felt it, it’s happened when I get caught outside unexpectedly in a snow storm. First, fear. I momentarily fear I’ve gone deaf. There’s no sound. But so many other sensations happening. I recently learned that snowflakes absorb sound. So that lack of sound is real. That lack of sound is simply enchanting.
With appreciation for Megan Arnold's missing word, I submit this word for her approval. Preciouspice: the point at which a favorite, well-worn article of clothing teeters between broken-in and the rag pile. (Derived from "precious" and "precipice.")
I love Wikenigma especially the random article feature!