- the sound of the mysterious michael z softly respirating in that ocean that will not admit me
A CD from Neighborhood Public Radio arrived with the air check of House of Zoka speaking extemporaneously about documentation of the Bay Area’s creative new music scene.
We listened to it while enjoying fresh pieces of rockfish baked veracruz-style in a chipotle salsa, which, as I ate, seemed to be slightly more sophisticated in flavor than I really deserved, yet, there it was, or wasn’t, because I was inhaling it.
Listening to you and your partner talk while you and your partner sit in silence, eating randomly exquisite food, is odd. Then, as you might expect, as we listened to ourselves begin to disagree on some subject, and begin to talk over eachother, we took up the issue from the radio program and began to have the very same disagreement, talking over the talking over. It was like putting the stereo between two mirrors and watching the sound stretch into infinity.
I pulled a bone from my mouth and set it gingerly on the side of the plate.
We’re always careful with the tiny things that could take us out.