novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- he grabs my hand and smells it and tells me i'm pretty. how romantic. today burpy was my student. before MALL and MOMMA (he knows his schedule well; after going to the mall on friday afternoons, his mother picks him up for the weekend) there was much running around, leafing through tractor catalogues, vacuuming and dishwashing. burpy is obsessed with machinery. we walked around #11 in the morning, me pointing out different van-parts to him so he could repeat their names back to me in his scarred, slurring speech. that's a hubcap. huuhCA. fender. f'DUH. steering column. stea COLnu. the way he pronounces "mirror" is the best, like some elegant but terribly drunk european trying to fit his mouth around the double Rs without trilling his tongue. MUIIIIIIIIIIIR #11, the oldest van in the autism parade, was ours for the day. lawnmower king, one of the more curious students, somehow extracted its entire air conditioning system. doors had to be closed by reaching into their sides and physically clicking the mechanism. grating sounds had to be ignored. i took extra long routes for burpy's enjoyment; he loves reading in transit, listening to the engine. whenever a good song came on the radio, i'd squeal and burpy would know to turn up the volume for me. we'd grin at each other and bounce a little, like i usually do with most of my friends whenever i'm stuck in a radio-only car that suddenly offers up good songs. prince, the who, bob dylan and weezer. the best musical accompaniment (MUS-L COMeeeMON) was the rambling classic rock, trailing out the open windows. i felt like we were a rock band on tour. 9:41 pm - 05.31.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||