some led zeppelin album title

crickets are naturally social animals. they communicate by crossing their wings slowly and striking them quickly. basic instinct. sharon stone's thighs as semifore. unlike buzzing insects, their chirps and clicks are intentional; and come in a wide variety. they are the only animal that I can recognize communicating, that does so without adressing the other. there is no intricacy to their language, no expression to read. they are precise

the other day was the last day of school. one of my students was steve, a black journalism student who slept through class most mornings. he wasn't dumb, or a bad student; he just didn't think that much was expected of him. when he got his grade, a B, maybe with some sort of a or -, he pestered Wanda for a half hour to give him a better grade. she showed him his scores, he persisted and left.

an hour later she left for australia, thinking him petulant.

then he returned, a little less composed. there were tears in his eyes and he stared at me. i told him wanda had fled the country and asked if there was anything i could do. he told me only if i could get him out of iraq, half-smiled and as his eyes began to flood, he left

yesterday i met a man named wes. he was the third wes i've met, and the second who was completely insane. i've only known one other wes, and he drank himself grey by 23.

this one stood still and proud on the train, anouncing his vision in a slow and deliberate tone. he had a beautiful speaking tone. he had an accompanying painting:

"...it was the night of January 20th, 2004 that the vision came to me. it was a vision of a square pit surrounded by green green grass under two groves of trees, where the weeds wrapped around the branches and a group of gnomes who suffered elephantitis and old age syndrome followed the call of the birds. have you ever heard a blckbird ask a question? you should...because...it's really hilarious. The blackbirds came to me because I was unChristian and in being unChristian I was being antiChristian, and in being antiChristian I was in fact the anti-Christ, because I did not read my bible every day..."

the picture showed the gnomes, each one in a pinstriped suit throwing gnome pats, arms and legs, into a burning pit. the train rolled to a stop and i got off. at the bus stop, a man with a huge zircon in his ear talked for five minutes about the amazing Cambell's Select New England Clam Chowder he'd made himself, and how it made everyone on his floor lean out of their doorways and breathe in through their nostrils at the same time.

these men were eloquent. perhaps their priorities were fucked, but they could speak.

for the past week or so i have been unable to communicate. at Bite with Nell and Emerson. at the Heartland with Breanna, Charles, Chris and Dan; at Ted's house with Randy, Matt, and Jason; i have been unable to intellectually meet the people around me. it's torturous.

for a few days, i thought that i could only communicate with my roommate Tania but it turns out that, for the moment, i can only function on two levels

one-on-one

and

party

where i can jump in and be a dick and add my voice to the many
i'm trying to put the words back into my head
i've picked up books, collections
of poetry by Amiri Baraka
and comics by Berkely Breathed
but my head isn't working yet

for the past three weeks i've had the Hole song "Doll Parts" stuck in my head
for the past three days i've had the Type O Negative cover of "Innagaddadavida" stuck in my head

and sometimes i envy the insects
and the time they get inbetween when i toss them leaves of cilantro to nibble
and jefferson takes them up by the head in his snaplock jaw
for their brief moments of conversation

Currently listening:
Cabin Fever
By Rasputina