There are moments of quiet when my head is filled with noise. I don't mean noise in the contemplating-the-deep-and-majestic-problems-of-the-world way, the I-can't-sleep-because-my-mind-is-racing way--I mean physical noise. Its closest likeness is hardcore music, but less appreciative. Heavy, repetitive drum beats, with clashy guitar, but so quiet and tinny it's like a cellphone ring tone stuck under the couch in the next room. I've been reading through a book on the brain, focusing mostly on prenatal development but going up to the age of five. It discusses the invisible waves in their low and high frequency levels from microwaves and wifi, powerlines and ultrasounds, heating things up and disrupting fetal growth in both measurable and imperceptible ways (and you wonder why I crave country living). Maybe that's what I'm hearing: static interference, low and high frequencies ramming through one another, clashing, speeding up then slowing down, rippling, sparking, on the way to their programmed (and unprogrammed) destinations, losing ions as they compete. Electronic spillage.