Thursday, March 12, 2009
THE WORST THING ABOUT HAVING ROOMMATES
is that no matter how badly you want to scream at the top of your lungs, you can't. somebody will be upset by it, become worried, contact the authorities. they'll want to know why you screamed, what's wrong with you, etc. and you just can't achieve the kind of release one gets from screaming until completely hoarse. i'm not talking about a wail of despair, a wrath-filled bellow, or even an orgasmic cry of joy. just a good old-fashioned scream in which all the things you couldn't already say are ushered forth in a display of just how wild and loud a human voice can become. i do it driving in my car all the time, in addition to the other weird noises i make to keep busy (a lot of people are put off by this idea, yet i continue to be open about it). i'll be driving along some road in heavy traffic and, upon making sure the windows are all up, AAAAAAAAAGHGGHHGHGAHAAAAAH. the louder the better. if you can damage your own hearing with it, great. just so long as you are able to let every bit of scream pass through you and out of you. that is so fulfilling. it just feels right. christlike, almost. like taking a much-needed piss. but of course something so unabashedly good is beyond the constructs of normal society, and to scream with all your might outside of say a grindcore show is typically frowned upon. there's something almost perversely pure to it, like it should almost be made illegal. there are certainly repercussions for doing so in the wrong scenario. getting caught indulging in a scream is mortifying, as if the veil on your most personal secrets has been lifted. but when it's just you and the scream, all primal and powerful and meaningless and omnipresent, it's like saying hello to god. if you think i'm joking, try it. go out into the woods, or on a mountaintop, and just fucking cut loose. you're welcome, planet earth.