by Jon Biddle
So on the podcast today, Sam and I were chatting and the subject of fetishes came up. We talk about all sorts on the podcast I Hate This Book. If you haven’t listened to it yet, hit the LINK here.
Anyway, my thing is sound. I enjoy sound way more than I should. So I did a little digging, and this is a thing. It’s called Auralism. I’m not sure at this stage if I’m to commit to this causing a sexual arousal in me, and I think the definition of auralism in its truest sense of the word is the sounds of others having sex. Hmm, not sure I’m into that, in fact, that’s a definite. The thought of sex is erotic, it’s what drives us as humans and is normal, but the sound of a couple of people rutting strikes more of something that is more agricultural – I hear the bull in the field behind us four of five times a year, if you close your eyes, one might transport to the orgies of Caligula back in Roman times. However, stick with me here. So I dug further in incognito on my Chrome browser, that old friend.
And came across a more succinct definition of what I like. Acousticophillia. The definition of this is being aroused by the sound of sound. Singing, poetry, verbal abuse…. Hmm, I think I’ll stop there, yeah the definition went south quickly.
But innocuous sounds like timber being sawn, or the well fitting drawer of a bespokely made dresser. The sound of a car crunching the gravel, the sound of a train clattering down a track, the sound of a coffee machine hissing and spitting. However, there are some sounds that turn me right off. It’s safe to say if I sit next to you and I hear you chewing your food, I am contemplating how I would kill you. Someone stirring a cup of tea boils my piss. The very sound of typing causes my teeth to somersault in my gums- a tough break for an author right. That’s what AC-DC is for. The glug, glug, glug of a wine bottle irritates me beyond. There are some sounds that are exquisite, a natural symphony to the ears. Morning birdsong, that first birdsong when the sun is finally higher, and the spring morning is full of promise, or the sound of perfectly engineered gears. The clunk of a seatbelt on an aircraft has a satisfying clunk click and the big spoon stirring that naughty Mac ’n cheese in the cold winter months, the racking of a machine gun – I was in the army remember, and some of these sounds will haunt me forever.
Sam, my wife, thinks that this is a creative outlet and less of a fetish. Which is true, I guess? Genuinely though, I don’t get aroused by sound. Simply love sound as a medium. Thinking if my creativity was something tangible like painting or pottery that would be acceptable, but sound, how can that be creative? Well, that’s simple, and as a writer, I can justify convincingly.
I listen to the noise of the world all the time. I don’t necessarily listen to the idiosyncrasy of people’s emotional journeys while in conversation with another, I couldn’t really care less about that. But the noise of the world, how people interact with the world in which we live, says a lot about the surrounding people. Say, for example, sitting in a coffee shop. The clatter of cutlery, the shrill of porcelain being chucked about by the staff, the sounds that accompany the smells of the cafe all create a mood. Either the mood is conducive or not. This for me gives me writing fodder. It textures my world into something that is more than just – well, being. And it’s kind of wonderful for me to fill the void and bring dimension to this world. It’s not merely about the sexual side of things, I guess. As a writer, it brings more to our humanity. We go by ignoring things because we are numb to it. Imagine if you could feel your heart beat, hear it even every second of the day. Because it’s there, beating around seventy times a minute, shifting around seven litres of blood every minute of the day and yet unless your heart rate is elevated for several reasons, you don’t hear it or feel it. Yet as a medical professional, I love listening to the Lub-dub of my patient’s heart, reminds me of the magic that is within our body’s.
Remember, another person’s normality is another person’s perversion. Let’s not judge.
What’s your thing? what turns your head and make to you take notice or have you something either wonderful or weirder to share – hit the linked visit the Facebook page and let’s discuss.
Have a great week, my fiends.