Saturday, December 2


One of my parents is on the phone downstairs. Anyhow, they sound extremely frustrated and angry. All I can here from hear is mumbling, but the emotions are obvious. It reminded me of one of the stories in 'The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat' -- Oliver Sacks. (yes, I realise I need to work out how to do links properly...) Something about people who could either 1) hear and understand words people were saying, but not recognise the intonation or the lull of their speech (who were basically deaf to the natural emotion, who would not recognise sounds of pain) or 2) those who could not understand the words, to whom words meant nothing, but sounds and emotion could be 'understood' so easily. It made me wonder which I'd prefer, and reminded me of something we'd been asked to do at Warwick -- to write in a 'made up' language, playing purely with sounds and stanza arrangement, line breaks and pacing.

Also, I couldn't decide which I'd prefer. Initially I thought to be able to understand the sounds, without the words, but, as someone who reads and writes a lot, it'd be like I'd had a huge chunk of me sliced off, messily.

Which reminds me about the cake. We have the reminants of a very tasty cake downstairs, which has especially tasty buttercream on the top. I think I'd just prefer the buttercream without the cake to be honest. I should make some, just some buttercream, and invite other friends round, those who like just the top of it too.

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