Wandering in a sonic maze
One day later. My upper arm is sore/tender; almost as if I had bounced off the door frame, on my way to medical salvation. I accept that price.
I fell into a corner of the soundscape that I haven’t visited for a very long time. Back in the ‘70s (so last century), I was trying to master the sounds of my chosen second language. Unwilling to sit in the solitude of a “language lab”, as one friend had suggested, I opted for music. Modern music. Out of Quebec. And there was a lot to choose from. I collected LPs, and made my own cassette copies of anything that passed my desk, and simply did the best thing I could in the absence of “live”. Or radio. It worked, reasonably well, and when I finally went on my three decade immersion, my ear was tuned enough to save me from major embarrassments. The minors – wait for my books.
My kids survived, although they have a preference for English, any time we have to converse for more than thirty seconds. I wonder why? I avoided the silly things, like trying to train dogs in an alternate vocabulary. Sit! Good boy! Oh, and my kids also understood the above phrases, so all worked in my favour.
But back to this afternoon. The music was good, then. Still is. No need to seek out a record player, now that YouTube has an unlimited library (as long as I can recall a name for the search bar). Even better, the algorithm now thinks that I want to revisit a world of Morse Code, V-EBB, and more.
