2004-01-05 - 3:09 p.m.

I Hear You. I Choose Not to Listen.

Among my many Super Powers is that of �perfect pitch�. My brother has it too, and we both learned of it separately, exclusive of each other. The only difference being, he can play instruments and make use of the talent, while I merely store voices like a fucking aural photo album.

It�s a pretty useless talent for me, if the truth be told. It�s what I imagine a photographic memory�d be like � hard to describe. Let�s see, I�m shit when it comes to faces. I can�t remember anything I can�t understand, so math, numbers and faces are big voids in my head. And I so want to be good at math � but what�s a brother to do? I fucking suck at math.

But I digress.

Sounds make sense to me. I�ll recognize a sound or a tone from childhood like you�d remember a smell. I never forget a voice � it�s more than just remembering, it�s freakishly accurate. I think that�s why I�m a great natural fucking lie detector. In University, tests they�d done on me (for extra credit) showed I could differentiate very small tonal shifts, like what happens when YOU FUCKING LIE TO ME YOU FUCKING DECEPTIVE UNDERLING MINIONS!

But again, I digress.

I have a collection of �favourite sounds�. Sounds that I can almost see, they�re that embossed on my brain. Like the surf-sound of a bag of navy beans being massaged, or the crinkly sound of rain through fall leaves or the squeak of winter boots through frozen-crystalline snow (you can get the same sound by squeezing a bag of cornstarch). But my alltime favourite is breaking ice.

And not just any ice. I love the sound of the Ocean thawing and cracking like huge oaks - heaving massive white monoliths of winter onto the shore, but that�s not the sound.

Y�know when it�s real cold and dry outside, and the puddles freeze on top, but the air is so dry, the underneath evaporates leaving that nefariously sharp crust of ice?

If you know that phenomena, then you must know the sound your foot makes as it snap-crackle-pops through it. That is a good sound. And the cool part about Vancouveronians not knowing fuck all about ice is that NOBODY breaks the icy puddles.

They�re all mine. I�m tellin� ya, on cold days like these it takes me 20 minutes more fer me to get the fuck to work for all the ice-breaking I do.

No, there is no fucking moral here. I like sounds. Simple as fucking that, cunts.

Piss off then � yaz gonna be so fucking queer about it, PRUNE ME. Howzabout THAT fer a fucking moral?

5 of you fuckers have been accounted for.

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