I don't want to talk with anybody. I'll check in with the cook instead or tickle an angel's nose in passing backwards over the water I walked blindfolded in my last reincarnation. There are so many bodies to be, so many places to be a body in. I don't know if I want a body again. I think this time I'll move around. Be a nose full of itchy air or laughing gas or the sound a horn makes in the middle of a group of people for no observable reason at all. I want it to be fun. I want to be surprised. I want to be a storm pouring into town, giving you my lecture two or three times a year. Scott Malby