The Consequence of Sounds (That's a Regina Spektor Song)

Monday, August 23, 2010, 530pm

I like to listen to things. Loud things, loud music, sermons and speeches. I like to listen to quiet things, like whispers in front of me, and feet scraping the sidewalk, and sand and water running, and kissing, and wind. I like to listen to smart things, arguments and outlines and really understand them. I like to listen to dumb things, silly things and giggles and an exhalation through the nose with a smile. I like the sounds I can make, my fingernails and feet tapping, my joints cracking, a finger searching for an itch in an ear, a scratch of the back. I like it when others talk to me, with eye contact and sentances, or just call out my name from across the room. I like to not understand what I hear and be content with that. I like rhythmic music, random sounds, screeching of harmonicas and organs and the calm guide of the bass. I like to listen to horn sections and cellos. I like to hear other people talk nicely to each other. I like to hear myself typing quickly. I like to hear high heels hit wooden floors. I like to have the hiccups. I like the sound of my own breath, when I’m swimming or falling asleep or running. I like to hear animals like cats and dogs ask for what they want, or little guinea pigs and mice burrow in their homes. I like to hear food cooking and paper folding. I like to hear music that I recognize. An airplane overhead makes me feel thrilled. I like to hear doors and windows opening and gates locking shut. I like to hear children running