A few weeks ago, after I left work, I was standing on the corner waiting to cross Eighth Avenue. I had this desire to just scream. No reason. No big reason. I just wanted to toss back my head and scream. To see how loud I could be, and how sustained I could get the scream to be. (Historical note: when I was 12, I became concerned that even though my voice was changing, my scream was still high pitched, roughly an A sharp. I worried that my scream was girly, and because it was out of sync with my otherwise changing voice, I'd always have a girly high-pitched scream. Two decades of smoking unfiltered cigarets have solved that problem.)

I wondered what the reactions would be from the people around me. In other cities, someone might call the cops. In New York, I imagine people would try not to nitice. Still, it's not something you see everyday. A big bald guy wearing a tie with his cell phone head set dangling from his collar letting loose with a good long loud scream in Midtown Manhattan.

I heard recently that Rock Hudson, when he started trying to get acting jobs, was told that his voice needed to be deeper and sexier. A voice coach advised him to go out into the desert and spend some time screaming himself hoarse. I'll have to make a point of getting to deserted place where I can scream for a while.

Maybe I need to get whipped again. I sure did enough bellowing back on October 25th. Talk about release.

Hmmm. I'm imagining getting accosted by the press, doing a segment on how New Yorkers are dealing with the multimple world crises, the sucky economy, and all the rest of it. "Well, I'm taking time for myself, putting a lot into my workouts at the gym which is always a great stress reliever. And I'm thinking that I might look into getting my back whipped bloody."

Sue, back to you in the newsroom.

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