I hear voices

I love music. I love sounds. I hear music in everything. I hear music when I sit in the kitchen, reading, smoking (I don’t smoke in my bedroom), with the dishwasher on and the clock ticking, they produce the most interesting rhythms together. I hear music in the humming of my pc or in my heels clicking on the footpath when I walk. I also love voices. The right voice talking can make you feel like a warm jumper on a winter’s evening. There are actors like Martin Donovan for whom I will sit through the most miserably of series or movies just because I love to hear them speak (well, and of course because I think they are terrific actors, there *are* limits to my masochistic side). When I see pictures of them I cannot think what I find attractive in them at all, but once they open their mouths… yowzaa.

Then there is Stephen Fry. Oh, lovely Stephen. Now, to fully describe why I adore this human being so much, his intelligence, his decency, his wit, his compassion, his warmth, would seriously take another hour, so let me just mention his voice. When I listen to audio books read by Stephen Fry, it feel like the most delicious piece of dark chocolate melting on my tongue. Like your kitten coming up to you and cuddling up in your arms. Like home. Did I mention that he follows me on Twitter? Ha! I have a devious plan to be hilarious and endearing at him (no, not really).

Back to voices.

I remember the moment when I fell in love with my first “serious” boyfriend at 19. We had been walking around a lake and were sitting down on a wooden bench for a bit. Now, I would say his register is maybe a low baritone, but not a bass. But when he talked, I felt the vibrations of the bench tickle my back. That’s when I feel in love with him for the first tiny bit. I don’t remember the date, I didn’t even remember what *season* it was (though after thinking about it for two minutes now I realise that it must have been February or March), but I do remember that moment when his voice touched me clearly.

Interestingly enough, I remember that for another guy that “hit me” moment was when he tied up his shoe laces. I am not making this shit up, my life really is *that* dull.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Language, Life, Media. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s