Part of it is from the carton of "natural" cigarettes that finally came in the mail (I want to be a responsible smoker AND a responsible drunk). My lungs are fixated on Camels, so I was probably pulling too hard on these "no chemical" dirt-wraps. Part of the throat crisis is the time of the year (season change/the beginning of the REAL summer here in Phoenix). And a big part of this current dilemma is my sudden kick into weight-management; I thought I was keeping my immune system up, but maybe I could have done more. So the throat begins to get raw, and what do we do? Ignore it, oh that's a good plan. How old are you now?
Almost 38, thank you. The point here, is that I have not been without a voice in over 10 years. Even in pain, I could always talk; radio-ready, and fantastic on the phone. I could "cover up" my sick sound when I wanted to--hell it was easy. Okay, well it's not so easy anymore. When you lose your ability to speak, and speaking is fairly important--let's just say that speaking is YOUR LIFE, and now you can't speak, it'll change you. I realize now that my voice is more than a message; it's a messenger. Maybe I start to understand now what all the attraction was to "me" being the background noise for the 3rd shifters. Okay, wait a second. This isn't going to become a whine-shrine to get back on the radio here. Screw the 3rd shifters; as you already said many times "I never got to listen to anything even CLOSE to me on the radio--because I'd have never turned it off." Waaa, and it's all over now. You lost your voice; remember?
Right. This is about verbal communication; and as soon as verbal communication is taken away from you, then your spoken world becomes a mere whisper of its normal self. Did you like that--with the "whisper"? Didn't you say you were 38? Talk about the stress; the elastic-stretched-taught instability all around the inside of your neck every time you prepare to, or even THINK about talking. You're descriptive; tell them about the scalding, unquenchable dryness; that bristling rust/dust dance that tinkles like broken glass down your throat to another dry cough--which only makes that heartbeat in your forehead louder. You keep hoping for a "pop" in your head, too, because sometimes you'd rather die than put up with this bullshit for one more hour. You're crying over throat pain, real tears, and playing off the watery eyes like you almost sneezed. You're making excuses, see; this is now like drugs--so do the crossover with the heroin addict; being silent (doing heroin) just to avoid the pain (of not doing heroin). But you can't be silent; you have to talk. You have to NOT do heroin, not cry, and pretend that it's no big deal--how are you going to pull this off? Remember? You had a whole big thing planned out here--and you wanna dick around with words like "whisper"?
We seem to be having some technical difficulties with the organization of this commentary. Let's just hope that our voice comes back soon--like tonight, while we are sleeping. Perhaps we should do some pre-sell? Yes, a salt-water gargle would be a good move. Right. And 2 spoons of honey; nice. And gargle with the antiseptic stuff, too, but keep water AND a hard candy nearby--because the antiseptic stuff dries you out. Yes; it looks like we have a plan. And; okay, this is me now. Can I talk for a second? There are some interesting things happening in this writing season--maybe you noticed. For the record, I neither want to do heroin, nor do I want to get back on the radio this week. I just want my voice back; I am nothing without my voice.
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