Shift Focus, HocusPocus!
Since my abdominals remain abysmally abominable, I chose to focus on insectsinstead.
As to houseflies and spiders (see para 1 of your last post...), I have a vast LIVE collection of both, and a major collection of mosquitoes as well. The regulars have names, and their own territories clearly marked out.
Most of my Reg. Mosquito Fraternity has Greek names, of course, and they each have their Most Preferred Bodyparts. Adonis is the neck-nibbler. Hermes is the earlobe fetishist. Poseidon prefers my Achilles heel. And Eros gets through the wonderbra every time.
My most prized Insectospecimen, though, has got to be the bluebottle that visits regularly. I have no idea what the lifespan of a blubottle is, but I swear this is the same one that's been visiting since the last 2 years. I recognize the tiny rent in his left wing. He has, of course, been granted Visiting Bluebottle Emeritus status, and even has his own beermug at the bar.
Spiders will always be special to me, particularly as they say that to squash one of those underfoot is Real Bad Luck, and who needs any more of that. Besides, I find all the webs rather festive, though the dust they collect is a bit of a partypooper.
Here's an Ode I wrote from the office one inspired Monday afternoon, which also tells you how busy they kept me...
SLY
There he is again, suicidal as ever.
I can see him out of my 8th-floor office window, running back and forth, sideways, diagonally, everywhichway.
It's more a sort of purposeful scurrying than running, and he remains totally oblivious of the fact that one false step will turn him into an instant gak-splatt.
Maybe he's bi-polar. Maybe he's an unloved, ugly duckling. Maybe he has a family problem.
Maybe his wife left him for someone more exciting and that's why he's always there alone.
Or maybe he's really rushing around looking busy so he can finish what he has to do and get home quicker.
Every evening around this time, he appears and goes through this entire routine, no variations. Some days when he's a bit late showing up, I start to get anxious.
I even gave him a name. Sly.
I've often wondered how old he is, what he does in his spare time and where he spent his last vacation. I marvel at his daredevil display of guts, hanging upside down outside the window. I guess to him it's no big deal, but that's how it looks to me.
I guess with eight eyes, you would get a whole different perspective on the world, too.
Even from 8 floors up.
Specially if you happen, like him, to be a spider.
As to houseflies and spiders (see para 1 of your last post...), I have a vast LIVE collection of both, and a major collection of mosquitoes as well. The regulars have names, and their own territories clearly marked out.
Most of my Reg. Mosquito Fraternity has Greek names, of course, and they each have their Most Preferred Bodyparts. Adonis is the neck-nibbler. Hermes is the earlobe fetishist. Poseidon prefers my Achilles heel. And Eros gets through the wonderbra every time.
My most prized Insectospecimen, though, has got to be the bluebottle that visits regularly. I have no idea what the lifespan of a blubottle is, but I swear this is the same one that's been visiting since the last 2 years. I recognize the tiny rent in his left wing. He has, of course, been granted Visiting Bluebottle Emeritus status, and even has his own beermug at the bar.
Spiders will always be special to me, particularly as they say that to squash one of those underfoot is Real Bad Luck, and who needs any more of that. Besides, I find all the webs rather festive, though the dust they collect is a bit of a partypooper.
Here's an Ode I wrote from the office one inspired Monday afternoon, which also tells you how busy they kept me...
SLY
There he is again, suicidal as ever.
I can see him out of my 8th-floor office window, running back and forth, sideways, diagonally, everywhichway.
It's more a sort of purposeful scurrying than running, and he remains totally oblivious of the fact that one false step will turn him into an instant gak-splatt.
Maybe he's bi-polar. Maybe he's an unloved, ugly duckling. Maybe he has a family problem.
Maybe his wife left him for someone more exciting and that's why he's always there alone.
Or maybe he's really rushing around looking busy so he can finish what he has to do and get home quicker.
Every evening around this time, he appears and goes through this entire routine, no variations. Some days when he's a bit late showing up, I start to get anxious.
I even gave him a name. Sly.
I've often wondered how old he is, what he does in his spare time and where he spent his last vacation. I marvel at his daredevil display of guts, hanging upside down outside the window. I guess to him it's no big deal, but that's how it looks to me.
I guess with eight eyes, you would get a whole different perspective on the world, too.
Even from 8 floors up.
Specially if you happen, like him, to be a spider.
posted by Priya Tuli at
12:32 PM
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