Never much liked the spidery things. All their wavery arms and their tendrical legs. Oh, and their mandibulistic and bombastical skittering to and fro. Yeah, there’s a certain amount of nightmare stuff leftover from past days of childish womp.
So, there’s something to be said for misliking bees. Bees being things with stingers. But methinks honey is a glorious nectar from which to drink.
Gnaw Gnaw the honeycomb, i go. Grumble grumble, goes the belly: it’s always eating processed sugar these days and no NONO honey to speak of any old way (except for tuesdays, and maybe mondays and sundays?)
there’s so much webstuff or surging surf to keep the mind occupado. is it just a distraction? or is there a purposeful mindliness to this thing…?
Distracted. IDON’THONESTLYKNOW, is it whichever, spders spdrs there’s a certain serendipity to spdrs like a reverse lookup, or, you flipitover, you flipitiover.
Let me restart. When I was a kid I put spiders in jars in terrariums in little boxes i launched two in a model rocket, they went upandupandup and came down dead, in the littlebubble, but while in the box the rocket sat as i cleaned up the things the spider uncurledallofasuddenand scared the pits offa my theatricality. itweren’tdead, itwerelive.
I am always and always was afraid of them, the little buggers, and i played with them because fear and fascination are right in the same… they have the same… they start with the same letter, though they have a different number of syllables. but the fascination, with its more powerful from so many syllables, overpowers the fear.
Centipedes, on the other hand, which we HAVEN’TEVENPREVIOUSLYMENTIONED, i hate more than even bees. and they provide no honey.
(The bee thing, though fastidiously more or less true, was more maybe prompted by yesterdays ohsojusthappened thing than anything else. The centipede thing is forever. I put one of those in a rocket once too, but it skittered thru some little crack before I even got the thing two steps from where i’d picked it up and then came scuttering around the bottom and up to my hand and the whole shootin’ match went instantataneously shooting across the garage from my spontaneous twitching.)
Yes, it’s a distraction. I really think it’s a distraction. But the problem with ME is I don’t see how anything ISN’T a distraction. i become rusty and cluttered more and more as i age, and my cynicism just clunches in on my whole head, until i might even KNOW there’s such a thing as some purpose some meaning some greater truth that might be worth playing around with I can’t BELIEVE any of that or FEEL any of that except maybe when it’s happening but when it’s not i can cavalierly just say, “Bah. It’s all for naught. We distract ourselves as soon as we’re able, as babies, and struggle all our lives to find other ways to distract ourselves until we just aren’t here anymore.”
too true, too true.
all the centipedes of the world are massing for something(orother) and who byrights is there to oppose them?***
but dammitall, that’s just a childish holdover: the want to manicheanise everything–simply to a stark 0/1 binary system.
strugglestruggle to keep things shaded grey and slowly adding colors too.
brain bending…
***(like everyone previous: seeing that this time is the most time ever: is there a secret armageddondream that each and every generation desires: the want to be the LAST, the very LAST, therefore the most significant?)
(oh blastitall, now i’m getting caught in, i fear, the western civ mindset. universalizing particularities.)
A spider may bite you. A bee may sting you. But why do we hate centipedes so much? Because they may become liquified on the bottom of our bare feet in the shower which will make us screech like little girls, and with no battle scar to show for it. Centipedes disgrace us, the wretches!
i looked at some pictures of centipedes to think about them. creepycrawly. there’s just too many legs. tootoomany. (aren’t there some poyzonous ones too? poyzon in the ear?) i don’t think of them in the shower. that would be too dreadful.
Yes, poison. Yes. I can’t remember rightnow, shamefully, if the house-centipedes can getcha, but I think they can, only in a sort of irritating sort of way. Those are the ones that most creep me out. The outside kind, that look sorta orangish (usuall) and armored, can definitely give you a nice bite. I useta get bit by ’em when I tried to collect them to put them in the jars to fight the spiders. Which they’d do. It was really quite a spectacle.