Noises we Make

Noises We Make ©

By Michael Casey

Today Sir Tom is knighted, the old soldier who raised so much for the NHS, there was a family wedding too. So, delight on two fronts for the Queen, and all done at Windsor, you can see it for yourself on Utube. So that’s a big noise in the Press, and we all applaud Sir Tom. Applause is one sign of love and respect, it’s done in the theatre, at pop concerts its cheers and screaming, we have applause at funerals now as well. It’s better than black everything that I remember as an altar boy serving Mass in the 60s and 70s. We celebrate the life just gone by, my mother had 5 priests on the altar and a packed church. Mozart was thrown in a pit with lime thrown on top.

It's a couple of days later as I resume talking to you, yes the pain monster has been visiting me, Arthritis is no fun take it form me. As I talk to you Anastacia is singing Freak of Nature and I’m tapping my foot as she sings, outside the house opposite is being painted white by Tom Sawyer and his wife, I think Trump must be visiting, the new white house, over the road from me. If I reveal that the house is owned by doctor who deals with mental health issues in the elderly need I say any more?

But back to noises, we make noises when we are happy, I’m feeling happier thanks to Anastacia, I seem to remember another neighbour played keyboards for her on a UK tour some years ago. So life and beat and noise go together, when we are afraid we are quiet, or held hostage in silence. This lockdown has quietened the world down, that’s why Freedom Loving Americans party so much, then spread the Virus so much. But at least Trump has finally got the message about masks, as Anastacia sings about getting the message. Is she writing this piece or is she joining in as my chorus, see that’s how I write, it’s in my head but influences can blow the words one way or another. So goodbye to Anastacia as she fades away.

Words fade to nothingness when sadness comes, or pain takes your breath away, and I am over qualified in both. The words fade to nothingness, no more can be said, but there are new beginnings. There is always new Hope, even in our darkest days, think of Casablanca and singing the French National Anthem, in my story Malta Nights I have a Esther a Jew sing defiantly. She looks at the statue of the Virgin Mary, and says Only us two Jews in a room full of Gentiles celebrating, please save them, I am old, I do not matter. And she can hear in her  mind Mary’s reply, I used to sing for my grannie, can you sing for me. So Esther the defiant Jew faces down a man with a gun, and sings the Ave  Maria, with all the strong Maltese joining in. A wall of sound as a defence. You’ll have to find the story online to see what happens.

Music and song really is our greatest Noise, I was going to write this piece one way but another took over. I have to stop right now as my left shoulder, always my left shoulder hurts so much, but count the beats and I’ll returned plastered in Movelat gel. Buy shares in Movelat, I’m still tingling in pain, but the edges has gone off it. My small daughter has just return home, while she leaves her treasure in the bathroom, I’ve returned after a ham and chorizo sandwich on seeded bread. The noise of my Tinnitus is always with me, maybe all the pain problems are short circuiting my brain to create noise which does not actually exist. My Tinnitus specialist will no doubt remind me again when I go see him, in a few months time.

We jump for joy and sing and cheer, and nobody really still says Hip Hip Hooray, we don’t wear bowler hats in UK either. Turbans and skull caps are more frequent. So, what more can I say about noise, yes to Sing really is to Doubly Pray, ask Cecelia when you get back to your bed. Joy elicits noise, we slap a baby to clear the airways at birth, so we have tears of joy and tears of happiness. A K drama can do that for me nowadays, you should try them.

I could continue but I’ll excuse myself as hunger and still a bit of pain now rising to my head has taken me off the boil. So I’ll put my whistling kettle on, what else, and have a coffee and maybe a sliced salmon and tomato sandwich to finish filling my belly. You can write a piece for yourself while I have my sandwich, it’s probably better than this, then you can be a writer too.