I generally find the sounds of the English language to be aesthetically pleasing—it’s one of the focuses of my poetry—but one of my favourite “sounds” occurs very rarely. I’m not actually sure if the sound has the name, but I feel like it’s unique and describable. 

The instance that first comes to mind is in Paranoid Android, during the slower part (the dirge?). When the second voice enters, the way the words “yuppie”, “panic”, and “vomit” are spoken hits the method of pronunciation on the mark. I mean, generally the whole song is pretty great in their pronunciation of the words. In particular, “yuppie” is said without the bilabial stop, and the voice is anticipated in what would be a voiceless plosive, making it voiced but still distinguishable from an actual voiced plosive. 

In the same line, the “-ing” in “networking” sounds pronounced like a French N preceded by an I when in the middle or end of a word (like in “l’inventaire”, but don’t quote me on that one though cuz I’ve yet to officially learn French), another aspect I like. 

In these words is an aspect of exasperation from anger and despair due to suffering that makes the pronunciation of the words almost mumbled. They don’t increase in speed nor do they become unintelligible, but consonants are dampened (especially by pushing voices onto unvoiced sounds) and vowels cracked or off, depending if it’d make them easier to flow into each other. 

Another example of this is in Prison Song by System of a Down. The third time “Another prison system” is said within the first time the chorus is sung, this non-parenthetical voice trails off in a manner that reminds me of the graph of ln(-x), haha. Within that split second, the words become less distinctively pronounced as the timbre cracking takes over in meaning. 

[And by “timbre cracking”, I mean the harsh, grainy parts of any singing style that approaches a scream. A scream itself isn’t necessary, as timbre cracking is a part of a scream but not solely an aspect of screams (lol sets).]

Although it obviously wouldn’t sound great to speak entire passages in this sound, I do really love it when it’s done contextually. When I think about using it, I think about having it in situations (operas, plays) where climactic distress occurs. For example, a scene where guards of some skew political regime take the 4 year old son of a peasant woman and execute him by bludgeoning him to death in front of her. Mastering the art of muttering in distress would help intensify such a scene. 

My attempts to [write, draw, create, think] are met with my knowledge and ability to quantify what [stereotype, aesthetic, ideal] can and does fit closest to what I do. It only becomes infinitely frustrating because I see myself walking the exact path each explanation spells out. [What emotions, what passions] can survive against an [oracle]?

I’m a timid person but I’m so rebellious against this. How I wish to act defying explication. But this universe maintains consistency and thus is modelable, if not loosely. No matter what I feel or think, it’s describable. Even in the most recalcitrant rage I will be following order step by step. 

I can’t believe I can’t even escape from a children’s toy. 

I decided to go out on a limb and make a Radiohead station on Pandora. 

I sat cutting my fingernails and calluses near the winder, lights off and head drooping over my trivial work. My sleepy signals made me devoid of thought. In its fractured realness I continued to do. 

What thought?

I have been bothered by the idea that my operations are so predominately dependent on my concept of self only because the idea of a self leads to a concept of myself. Then my goals and values are only stable over time because I make them stable over time. Hurdles are only created because I create them by inadvertently being about my being, changeless in a world of change. If the alternative of perfectly liquid self constitutes a concept of self that brings stability, at what metalevel is the self destroyed? If I make my psyche liquid at every metalevel for all infinite possibilities, will I exist, or is the idea of myself existing only further perpetuating the idea that I do exist even if it’s in a form which by definition probably does not exist?