I was walking yesterday in a place I barely knew by car, and hardly by foot at all, and it was hot enough that I was sweating from the inside out before I even hit the outside with 50 steps. There was plenty of human developed concrete gridlocks, but also still plenty of greenery to various stages of wilding out mixed in, and man them southern humidity cicadas were KICKING. That is a sound and a half right there, one that sampling and programmed beats according to time metrics just can’t really recreate well because it has that innate as fuck crescendo and descent back into momentary silence before popping back up little by little. I always wonder about the psychology of the different parts of the cicada chorus. Are there little bugs bound to start that chirp up early as fuck, and the ones who bring it back out of silence first? Why does it go down? What disruptors cause the collective volume to drop like that? I was thinking about all this as I walked through, when really I wanted to sit down there, in the shadiest but still too damn hot spot I could find, and just vibe out for three to four generations, and acquire more understanding of the how and why of cicada knowledge. I don’t speak their language so I assume it would take at least one generation just to begin comprehending their sounds at a basic elementary level. Then again, what the fuck do I know? I’m just a self-ordained primate polluted by egotism of false individuality.
No comments:
Post a Comment