"Nothing" Nobody|0000|None Records Period: Never Frequency: 0:0 to present Accuracy: Perfect Volume: Library Who is responsible: God? Could be Worse, Could Be: Tinnitus.
I woke up, as I do every morning, with a snippet from a popular song from my lengthy, well-worn past playing on endless repeat in my gargantuan dome. But now, at 11:01 a.m., a full hour after rising at the crack of ten in the morning, it’s gone. It’s all gone. Inside the cathedral of my cranium, there is no sound.
This is fine. It’s good. It’s even welcome, after spending so much time yesterday in 1975. But I’m suspicious. Is this the calm before the cacophony? Will I wake up Wednesday with Wagner waging war within my wig stand?
There are rules about a day of silence. Most importantly, to take it like a man and not try to find out what the song was you woke up with because that would be a disaster. You think the volume was high when you opened your eyes this morning? If this thing comes back, it’s a jet engine decibel levels. My neighbors will complain. My dog will hide. My hair will stand straight out from my skull.