Thursday, March 19, 2015

Journal 58 - Bloodletting Mosquitoes

The smell of a Carolina night toward June is
often inseparable from the feeling of it - warm and
thick and humid and noisy. The nocturnal birds
chirp like the un-nocturnal birds, indecipherable
to my human ears. But so melodious in their
Pentatonic rhapsodies. I wonder if the sound of our
harsh guttural voices shame them into songs of bird
freedom and liberation from the oppression of sad
choppy sounds. Cars also pass by over the interstate
like a distant waterfall in a concrete waterless world.
Death is frowned upon unless it is the premeditated
murder of the mosquito. Bloodletting is such an ancient
concept but it works well for me looking like a 
crazed loony slapping my nose or my face in hopes
of eradicating that micro-hypodermic needle of a
vampiric*. Behind the mosquito perhaps the sur-
prisingly agile slug in its fat wet suit of natural
spandex is most deserving of premeditated...wait a
minute, even though salt, thick kosher salt, rests
like tiny land mines on my door frame, the sounds of
the night-time birds still sing to each other in the
middle of city concrete sounds. The jungle of the city
is wild and loud but the beauty lies under the surface
unlike the jungles of South America or Africa. Sure the
hippos and crocs are deadly, but still so beautiful in
their living bodies of carbon and calcium and oxygen.
The sound of tires on roads and gunshots in the night
like M-80s - not the same appreciation of beauty
though not parched or bereft. The smell of the salt
of the sea on the wind from the coast eventually wafts
its way over to my recently clogless nose like the smell
of honeysuckle in the spring or cotton candy at the
state fair. Regardless of its beauty or its deficiency in
that area, the city still holds for me a magical and 
mysteriously beautiful convergence of man and beast
(as I slam my elbow against the wicker sofa to startle
or kill the spider-looking bug scurrying in the corner
of my eye) - a place where life thrives regardless of
the expectations of scientists, humanists or primatologists.


* - can't read my writing. hassle? husk? kiss?

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