The Whiteness of the Noise

True Confession #1:  I've read Moby Dick 5 or 6 times.  The first few go-rounds, it was required in school.  No excuses for the rest of them.  I always skip some of the cetology chapters about 2/3 through, the ones about the whale from a biological perspective.  But there are parts of the book that really stay with me and hum and vibrate at certain times.  One chapter that I like a lot is called "The Whiteness of the Whale." 

In this chapter Ishmael (or so the narrator requests that we call him) ruminates on--you guessed it--the whiteness of the whale.  It's a list of speculations on what the color might signify.  And in Moby Dick everything sure does signify.  This chapter in particular is very like a poem.  No answers, just slow swimmy drift from one possibility to the next.

True Confession #2:  In our efforts to help Pearl calm down at night, we've started playing a white noise CD.  I hate it when writers refer to the dictionary definition of absolutely anything, but dig this:

white noise
1 the sound heard when the entire range of audible frequencies is produced at once, as in the operation of a jet engine.
2 an overlay of sound to cover up distracting or annoying noises; acoustic perfume.

Dictionaries must have really improved since I was a kid.  Since when does dictionary-speak describe anything as "acoustic perfume"?  That is downright groovy.

This white noise CD moves through 3 phases of noise.  The first track sounds like a garage band, a million simultaneous disasters, and it's pretty fast.  The second one sounds like a jumper with perfect rhythm doing his thing on a trampoline with rusty springs.  The third one, which is the longest track, sound like a robotic heartbeat. 

It sounds awful but my child loves this stuff.  Another bonus?  When Jake the dog barks at the mailman, the cat next door, the neighbors, or the opera walker,  the usual disturbances of our lives, thanks to the whiteness of the noise, Pearl can't hear a thing.

Comments

[christa]

At first I thought you wrote/I read "the second one sounded like a JUNIPER with perfect rhythm doing his thing on a trampoline with rusty springs." And I thought, Whoa.

I really like this blog, Robin.

[Leslie]

Dear Robin,
Keep up with the boggling. You taught me a word.
Let me share a little bit of the forseen future with you.

Marina started holding my hand last week to practice jumping. Sometimes she would lift up one feet, others she managed to lift up both at the sametime challenging what keep us tied down to the ground. Today she could jump and smile at the same time. She was the show for the whole family and we celebrated.
Tomas is building laberinth-like construction with wood blocks. That reminds me of a visitor we had last week.
Last Friday Joaquin and Julian brought two toads from school.Julian had his in a leaking plastic bag which he had made holes into for breathing purposes of the creature. Joaquin had his in the samllest kind of tupper-wear container. I was the driver of the vann this time. I am not an animal oriented person,I know, but the idea of toads jumping while I was driving made me talk with seriousness about the matter. They had to think that they were the paramedics in a 20 minutes ambulance trip and their focus had to be the life (and stillness) of their toads. We got home and that poor toad became their pet.They have been asking for a dog or a cat but I have stated that Marina has to be out of diappers, agewise,at least.
The other day Joaquin was saying that he wished he was older. When I asked him why, he said he wanted Marina to be older, and therefore we could have a pet.
The toad visited one of Tomas laberinths and had to face Tomas apatosaurus. The apatosaurus is at least 5 times larger than the toad. The toad had the expression of get-me-out-of-here. And believe me, it tried to do so several times.The toad also enjoyed a trip in a toy car and refreshing cool water baths . Joaquin place the toad in one of those white plastic patio chairs with left over rain water from the night before and splashed the toad while singing something. This time the toad face showed some pleasure out of this pampering.
Afterwards, me and later Esteban came out to beg freedom for the animal for the 10th time. Tomas didn't want to let it go. The authority in charge had to employ the use of threats that at this moment my writer side doesn't and cannot retreive in detail.
I know you may think Pearl is a "girl" and this is Tomas and Joaquin's boys world. Let me tell you that Marina was an active observer and participant. She was the main provider of small branches into the old cooler that was one of the many homes they prepared for the guest.
It's 12:18 midnight and I need to go to sleep.
Marina is coughing, let me see what can I do.
Chau chicas,
Leslie.