I am not lonely with cricket.

At first I payed no attention: it was simply the loud sound of crickets in the night, not uncommon in this weather/country. When I realised it was coming from inside the room and not outside, that's when I began to feel I was going mad.

I couldn't sleep thinking how deeply disturbed a person Franz Liszt must have been; what it is exactly that lies behind the first row of cabbage plantations and why I am so afraid to go there in my dreams; and that conversation I heard earlier:

'Nobody's going to love you, just me.' This is what three-year-old Eliza says to her baby sister, who is still less than an inch tall and lives in their mom's womb.

I thought of all the horrifying possibilities of feared objects behind the cabbages: monsters, transfigured human faces, rotting unborn children, mutilated parts of the body, smashed up loved-ones; but none of these were frightening enough. I wondered if there was a name in musical theory for that thing he does: scaling down a similar phrase over and over till an explosion and then lingering just to build momentum up again and explode into other repeating phrases, alternated with crazy, almost-out-of-tune waltzy bits. I also wondered whether intelligence is at all compatible with broodyness, and how come I am unable to make other people learn from my mistakes. My stomach ached and I finally resolved to get some sleeping pills--I have to work tomorrow, it's obviously just my body fighting against that.

I'm wearing no contact lenses and I'm quite blind, so I can't see where the crickets are, but I hear them around the couch. But if they're there, how come cat doesn't catch them? Maybe they're on the ceiling or something? I started wondering if maybe the sound came from that bag of lemon-salty roasted crickets I brought from Oaxaca--maybe there were still a few alive. Then I felt insane and surreal for having seriously considered that possibility for at least three or four seconds. The noise is loud and I could be asleep, maybe I'm just dreaming again. I'll know tomorrow morning when I check my own blog to see what I was up to the night before.

Must remember tomorrow:
-How to falsify memories
-The story of when we never lived abroad
-The cabbages