Keep it down now,
I suffered from rather violent strain of virus earlier in the week. It’s all good now. It’s all gone.
But it also left a rather remarkable side-effect in it’s wake. It appears that my voice has vanished due to it. When I go to speak, nothing comes out. I have been struck dumb by this rogue intruder of my physiological being.
Can’t help it. Nothing comes out. My voice is gone.
I couldn’t help but be initially amused by this. I’ve never been dumb-struck,…but I have been. Can’t speak a freakin’ word here.
In this age of email, texting and self-service, I began to wonder how much I need my voice at all. Do I even need a voice?
I decided, since this is the first time this has happened, that I would use this instance to make a mental note as to how much I actually use my voice during the course of a normal day.
Since I can’t talk, I knew it would be easy.
I let the dogs out. The sound of the back door opening was enough to get them running. I had to say nothing. I went into a bodega and bought something. I didn’t even have to open my mouth. I got gas. Self-serve. No words spoken.
My boss came in and asked about 6. I rasped out, “Pratt”. One word. He understood and went on his merry way.
The guy I worked with asked how I was feeling. I rasped out, “Can’t speak”. He left it at that and then briefed me as to what was going on.
I sent a few texts, I sent a couple of emails.
Aside from those three words, I realized that I don’t need my voice at all….and that was kinda sad. The realization that my spoken words remain inconsequential.
…But, later, in the quietness and stillness of my rat’s nest of an office, I stood up and belted (rasped) it out….
“She’s precocious and she knows just,
What it takes to make a pro blush,
She got Greta Garbo stand off sighs,
She’s got Bette Davis eyes….”