Twilight

My fascination with the absence of sound probably had its origin when I realized that, even in a place insulated from sound, I could hear…something. Whether it was blood coursing through the veins in my ears or constant, faint noises that mimicked distant crickets, I could was…and am…always in the presence of noise. I simply cannot experience silence. The knowledge that silence is forever out of reach frustrates me, because I so deeply desire to experience what silence is like. On the other hand, though, I want that experience to be under my control; perpetual deafness would be far more challenging, I think, than permanent noise. Even extremely faint sounds. From what I have been able to gather, sounds louder than 130-140 decibels are painful. Faint sounds of 20 decibels or less are at or near the lower limits of humans’ abilities to hear; but the level of barely audible sound produced by our breathing is said to be about 10 decibels. I seek the elusive absence of sound: zero decibels. Perhaps the sounds produced by a butterfly’s wings in flight is as close to silence as sound comes. The loudest sound ever recorded, according to Google‘s AI, was the eruption of Krakatoa in 1883, at roughly 310 decibels. But measurements above 194 decibels are considered blast waves, not actual sounds; how that level was determined to be the point of differentiation between sound waves and blast waves is beyond me. I am sure I could find out but, to use one of my favorite sayings, “the game is not worth the candle.” That is, the effort produces results that do not warrant the energy expended to obtain them. Put yet another way, my interests wane in direct correlation to the time I spend in pursuing them. Or, I am easily distracted by the nearest shiny objects.

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Inside the house, a variation of only 2°F can make the difference between comfort and discomfort. A temperature of 72°F can feel uncomfortably chilly, while 74°F can feel warm enough to be tolerable, at least. Add another degree or two and the air can make me feel like the ideal temperature is at hand. In the summertime, though, 74°F can feel uncomfortably cool; only by warming the air by 10°F can comfort be achieved. That’s just me, of course. And that’s contextual; the same temperatures and temperature variations can feel comfortable or uncomfortable, depending on physiological variables that are too complex for me to understand without conducting extensive research. And I’m not interested in doing that research today. All of this is a lengthy introduction to the fact that the present outdoor temperature is about 55°F and the forecast for the day predicts a high temperature of 75°F. I think a 20°F rise in temperature may seem like the universe is conspiring to roast me. There is no ideal temperature. Temperature is like everything else; its appeal is contextual. The context, though, is hard to measure and harder still to articulate. We have a hard time expressing certainties when there are none.

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We’re living through the twilight of American economic dominance.

~ Shia LaBeouf ~