Pictures taken from the front of the theatre at the Willie Nelson concert on 13 December 2018.
I'm still alive. No, I didn't party too much on my birthday. Just about all of last week consisted of twelve hour days of nothing but meetings with several times the number of people I'm accustomed to handling simultaneously. Additionally, I was working on a music review for Vampire Step-Dad, which required a pair of studio grade noise-cancelling headphones and listening to tracks repeatedly. I seem to have given myself a case of sensory overload, because now I feel numb all over... I also attended Pantheacon last weekend, which did a number on me. I realize that I could (and should) have holed up in my hotel room with a pair of earplugs in to recuperate, and there was no shortage of signs on Saturday morning that I should have done so. Signs, I hasten to add, that I disregarded in a perhaps inadvisable attempt to push my capabilities a bit farther than normal.
Minor repairs are required for parts of my exocortex as a result of pushing myself too far.
I have a timed post or two set to go up this week, but I'll be spending as much time as I can offline to recuperate.
I've mentioned in the past that I've been bumping around on the edges of the synthwave community for a couple of years now in various ways. A couple of weeks ago I got a ping on Twitter from an artist performing under the handle Vampire Step-Dad. During the course of conversation he mentioned that he'd put together an EP called A Night In the Life of..., and would I be interested in giving it a listen?
I'm always down for some new music, and said that I'd write a review of his work from a synaesthete's perspective.
So, here we go.
What's it like not having synaesthesia?
That sounds like a flippant answer, but it's quite the truth. I can't remember a time when I didn't experience sounds (music, in particular) in a deep, visceral way that involved more than just my sense of hearing. For the longest time I thought everybody's experience of life was like mine. I thought everybody cried when they heard violin music. I thought everybody felt waves of cold and prickles when they heard sounds made up of square waves (yeah, I'm dating myself, aren't I?) Didn't everybody shiver and see starbursts of pink and purple light when they heard a particular chord progression on the radio (strangely, the original Also Sprach Zarathustra doesn't have that effect on me - must be the pedals Andy Summers used in the studio)? Didn't everybody feel... pain... when they just heard something shrieking or screaming, like bus brakes or the scream of a dentist's drill (note: video of actual drill-and-fill; feel free to not click on it)?
To answer my (rhetorical) question another way, everybody seems to be synaesthetic to some degree. Take a look at this image.
Now, tell me: Of what you see in that image file, which one is Kiki and which one is Bouba?
Merry Christmas and a joyous Yule, everybody around the world.