I went to live karaoke last night. No, not as opposed to dead karaoke. Live, in that the accompaniment was live.
And here’s a truth to mull (as opposed to mill) over: better is not necessarily better. Live is inherently better than recorded, but live means that the noise level is set at “loud.” Or maybe even “very loud.”
There are a lot of guys out there who can really scream it out when given the chance. Women as well, but the men are louder.
I thought about noise levels and how sensitive I am to them. In the village of Pierrerue, where the walls were built of stone, so thick that the room never warmed up, not even on the hottest, sunniest days, I could still hear my neighbor cough in the morning. I wished he’d quit smoking and take care of his cough.
In the loft, I am surrounded by quiet types, which is good because otherwise I would most certainly move out.
You may think that this pull toward silence is age related. Maybe your eardrums do get sensitized when the gray hairs come out. But I have always liked quiet moments and gentle music and sounds of rain and all the other low key stuff.
It’s tougher to do quiet well. If you like loud crashing music I would think you could not possibly tell if something is excellent or just very good. With quiet music, you can hear fatal flaws. And so perhaps it is good that karaoke leans toward the loud. These same dudes would fall flat if asked to tone it down by maybe 500%.
On another note, I promised Ocean policy changes: comin’ up! Look for them on July 2nd, an anniversary of sorts for me.
As for trips and adventures: July 8th starts one.
In the meantime I am doing what I do best: a little of this a little of that. If asked how I spent my free time today, I would answer that I got the loft ready for week-end visitors, studied recipes for Basque cakes and worked on my newest project: setting up workshops for guys (come on: name me one female who would spend money to do this!) who want to learn CNC milling and are willing to travel to Madison to grind away with great precision at heavy metals.
Specifically, I visited the workshop of this person – one of Madison’s best machinists – to see if space was to be had in his expanding shop:
No one ever accused me of having a limited range of interests.