The crickets were doing there best to be allies.
To them, they were simply trying to find the elusive girl of their dreams -- sawing away on their spiny legs. To the soul looking for easy sleep, they were white noise better than any recording purchased from a state fair hypnotist.
The quest was simple. A good night’s sleep to prepare for an early trip to Uruapan. The crickets, if crickets are even aware of such goings on in the human world, were six-legged angels ready to lift the sleeper through the clouds.
But there was no sleeper. There are more than cricket voices in the night.
There are the guardians. The protectors of hearth and home. The dogs of rooves, streets, and courtyards.
The crickets may be spiritual guides, but the dogs are all about the material world.
To dogs the world is filled with danger. They are brave enough to stand their ground and add voice to the voiceless terrors of the night.
But their warnings go unheeded. No master comes to reward the faithful servant. Instead, the dogs -- because there is now a chorus of echoing warnings -- continue their rhythmic barks. Like some car alarm that the owner ignores. Just another layer in the urban milieu.
The unsleep walker seeks relief deeper in the dwelling. On the couch where the proverbial recalcitrant husband seek relief. But the sleeper, being neither a husband or recalcitrant, finds the couch to not be a place of peace.
The night slips by with its discordant notes. To be replaced at the dawn with new voices. The sirens of police and ambulances.
And so the dream of driving down the road to Uruapan slips away.
There will be other days. Just as there will always be voices in the night.
To them, they were simply trying to find the elusive girl of their dreams -- sawing away on their spiny legs. To the soul looking for easy sleep, they were white noise better than any recording purchased from a state fair hypnotist.
The quest was simple. A good night’s sleep to prepare for an early trip to Uruapan. The crickets, if crickets are even aware of such goings on in the human world, were six-legged angels ready to lift the sleeper through the clouds.
But there was no sleeper. There are more than cricket voices in the night.
There are the guardians. The protectors of hearth and home. The dogs of rooves, streets, and courtyards.
The crickets may be spiritual guides, but the dogs are all about the material world.
To dogs the world is filled with danger. They are brave enough to stand their ground and add voice to the voiceless terrors of the night.
But their warnings go unheeded. No master comes to reward the faithful servant. Instead, the dogs -- because there is now a chorus of echoing warnings -- continue their rhythmic barks. Like some car alarm that the owner ignores. Just another layer in the urban milieu.
The unsleep walker seeks relief deeper in the dwelling. On the couch where the proverbial recalcitrant husband seek relief. But the sleeper, being neither a husband or recalcitrant, finds the couch to not be a place of peace.
The night slips by with its discordant notes. To be replaced at the dawn with new voices. The sirens of police and ambulances.
And so the dream of driving down the road to Uruapan slips away.
There will be other days. Just as there will always be voices in the night.
17 comments:
Just one word; no, two: "ear plugs".
Saludos, Don Cuevas
Not just ear plugs, but silicone ear plugs. I have a nice supply available, as I have mentioned.
Mexico is noisy. I am currently in Ruidoso (noisy water) New Mexico. A whole lot quieter than our Mexico digs. Small price to pay for the other benefits Mexico has to offer - I know you agree.
I don't cotton to earplugs - just have learned to sleep in a foxhole sort of speak.
I never travel without earplugs.........even in the USA! Since it so quiet here on the hill overlooking the canyon, I tend to forget the sounds of the world. But, in my trusty traveling kit are the trusty earplugs........ The City of Veracruz was the noisiest place I've ever been.........
Never tried earplugs but sounds like a good idea. At the house it's very quiet so that's never an issue. In fact I bought one of those machines that makes a variety of noises from white noise to crickets, rain and city traffic. Normally have it set on the sounds of the bayou.
Mazatlan is where those earplugs would come in real handy...
Hey I thought that you go to the Old Men Wandering Around Town Breakfast on Tuesdays? (OMWATB)
Not to rain on your poetic parade, but no hypnotic recordings I've ever heard sound anything like crickets. You mistake hypnotist for "sounds of nature" titles. And I happen to know a former state fair hypnotist...and own most most of his recordings.
And my crickets are better.
Felipe the Good just delivered a pair to me. Much easier than a .38.
I missed the breakfast this morning. Slept too late.
And I have never needed them elsewhere. Even with the flock of fighting cocks in my Melaque neighborhood.
This dog must be Superman's pet. He can bark for hours at a stroke.
And I thank you for the pair that is now next to my bed.
Done and done. But if I had used them earlier, I would have been one blog short.
I prefer hypnosis. Crickets keep me up and I don't feel any better for it.
ever read ruth weiss "can't stop the beat"? one of the final 'chapters' is called, "compass". it's ruth's impressions of mexico beginning october 14, 1958, before blogging. it's dynamite frags of impressions & experiences & crickets & dogs & poetry through february 4, 1959. you might relate. she's a beat poet escapee from the nazis who wandered the streets of san francisco & tapped out her words & read her words aloud & off as a gypsy to mehico... courageous dame now & then. anyway, this piece reminded me of ruth's "compass."
I wasn't aware of her work. Maybe I am being reborn as a beat poet. Stranger things have happened.
For me, it is those dogs. They were quiet tonight.
I hear a dog that seems to want to kill me every time I step out of the car. :)
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