The Orange Hat

I have a little voice in my right ear. It sounds like a sound that really isn’t a sound, it’s the absence of sounds- but not really, because if you’ve every been in a dry cave, or a deep basements, or had a very odd dream then you know what silence doesn’t sound like. My sound is a sound from the place where you normally interpret sound. I imagine it would be like seeing light that isn’t there, and your optic nerve is more or less saying “fuck you” over and over again, in a happy little voice that those overly pleasant dolls from matel look like they should be saying.

That’s the non-sound in my right ear that muffles everything else to the simplistic yet comical cacophony of a ill-played trumpet, underwater. I tried to think of it as “character,” but when things have “character” it’s something you learn to love or use to your advantage, or smile to yourself when you think about it, even though it’s trouble some – character is something you love, like a spoiled brat who doesn’t pay rent on time because he knows his parents will cover for him, and everything will be ok, that’s “character.”

My ear is not full of character, it’s broken.

And let me assure you I do use this to my advantage.

When I sleep at night, I never have to cover one ear. When I’m in a bar with some ninny who I really don’t have any interest in after she’s alluded to not having a ride home, or a friend who was supposed to give them money and she won’t stop talking, I make sure she’s on my right. In Matatus I can put my ear right up to the speaker to block out most of the noise which could possible rebound and go into my other ear.

Not having a sense can be beneficial, I won’t deny that. But it’s a pain in the ass only hear the left audio in head phones when it’s dull audio, or constantly turn my head when in a meeting.

I don’t see this as a punishment for something I did, or fate, or even try to convince my self that I believe any of that bullshit, because I would be lying. It just happened, like the HIV that’s here, like the poverty, like the malnutrition, the brownish yellow veins in the eye where it should be white, the bad teeth that people never bothered to fix, the contorted legs, the paraplegic I pass everyday and don’t so much as nod at him.

Yeah, this was a bitchy note, but I had a change of mind while writing it. Those are my true feelings, and looking at other people sufferings doesn’t make me feel better about my own, but my ear really doesn’t make me depressed, or angry. It is annoying, but so is listening to rap music on the bus everyday, and there’s nothing I can do about that.

So just like right now, as I hear the little screaming non-sound, I smile and say “damn it’s good to be alive.”