When I drift into the empty space of my childhood I am reminded how rigid my memories are from that period of my life, as they are so few. A place where my behavior was more sedentary then the chaos that ensued during my more troubled years when I was hyperactive and impulsive. This shows that I am seeking a more solid foundation for the next chapter in my life. I want to understand why I perceive myself to be more Golden when I was a quiet kid rather then as a young man lacking access to drugs who could say whatever was on his mind until introduced to adulthood by a left handed brain chemist described as a new outlook on nicety and with no guidebook. The audacity to be kind – when you can’t bring yourself to tell another adult that we are really only kids ourselves who measure the octave of our voice against all voices in the room. When a fad perpetuates over and over for people who identify with each generation that is original and will comment on the similarities to no avail. The suggestion that nobody really hears us indicates that the spectacle of ideas displayed by kids is fashioned out of love for imagination. We can’t adapt to what we see without making it familiar so we try to fit in visually rather than stand apart by being heard. Another course for consumption is that we are constantly seeking approval for what we’ve said even though auditory memory literally stops with us because it isn’t consistent after being repeated. There is truth in the visible as the picture in our minds gives characters and places a recognizable voice. And so the young man who is consumed with a vision of how one ought to hear must digress and realize he is stationary once again and acting like a child while writing so he can hear and see simultaneously his ideas that come from a place of singularity as opposed to abundance.
Writing this stuff down makes it so I can explain simple stuff in a complex way. Saying complex things out loud for me has to be presented slow and simple anymore. Let me try to breakdown a complex situation and make it simple to understand. For me at this time in my life, voices that are in my head are not words spoken out loud by another human being who is in close range. First off, voices sound like a muffled sound of uncertainty that suggest to me that I shouldn’t move my body where I want it to go without speaking about something first. Secondly, the muffled sound starts as a regular sound, like a creaky house, before my mind muffles it then turns it into barely audible rapid words that suggest I am alone and wrong. Thirdly, it’s up to me to then decipher if I am alone and if not is it my turn to move or to say something or if I’m alone is it wrong for me to ignore the voices or should I listen silently and still to hear the next suggestions or sound. Voices put me in a situation where I want to be in a state of perpetual motion, which I am because I am breathing, therefore there is no way of getting away from the voices because even houses breathe.
Francis Erich McElroy 