20 tagged with #summer

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Clarence


When we first moved to this house, moths visited the bathrooms every night through the summer and early fall. We kept the screenless window open for ventilation, and they flew towards the globe light bulbs above the mirror, spinning in circles around and around and landing on the tile to slurp spilled bathwater. I crawled after them with a camera and a macro lens, setting up lights and speaking gently to them. A different, new species appeared almost every night.

I've read that moths navigate by lunar pull, a sense for the position of lights and bodies beyond the atmosphere that goes beyond what our eyes can tell us. They get confused when lights are too close, and their long, careful inscription of the night turn into frantic tight circles when they breach humanity's fear of the dark. The lights here disrupt them. Things we need to survive disrupt things we can't understand. We have a right to be here, too.

I found Clarence after days of seeing bug dirt scattered under the geranium pot, and I wasn't ready to glimpse a white bristly worm in the corner of my eye while watering the tomatoes. I've never understood my aversion to looking at caterpillars enough to learn how to overcome it, so I startled and so did Clarence.

Maybe it's giving him a name and making him a friend; maybe it's missing the moth visiting the bathroom. After that first summer here, we rarely saw moths again. After a bit of a cooldown, I went to inspect Clarence again, and he reared up and shook at me until I retreated again. I wonder if that tactic works as well for the robins circling the porch as it does for me.

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01 July 2014 23:14


Not Sunday


A long, rainy day. There are few days when I do not leave the house. But they are the days when I lock myself inside my head in an attempt to pry out the thoughts I need to put together.

I've managed to separate the need for pleasure from the need of food, such that I can eat for the pure utility of putting nutrients into my body, regardless of what those nutrients are. I used to wonder how my father could stand to eat plain white rice with plain vegetables and lukewarm water; as time goes on, I become my parents.

That thought used to scare me. It doesn't anymore; it almost becomes a note of pride when I observe it.

Hard boiled eggs are to be eaten in one gulp, whole, unseasoned, with the shell casually peeled away. It's okay if it crunches a little. I needed to clear out the weeks-old celery that doesn't even snap with crispness. Empty cans of cheap lager stack up on my desk. I haven't even stood on the porch in hours.

It's summer. I'm flying away, soon.

I'll be back.

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15 May 2014 21:17


Spinning


This bicycle is not about how fast I am capable of going, but more about how fast I am willing to go, while keeping all of my weaknesses as a fleshy, breakable body in the back of my head.

I have a VIN in hand for a motorcycle promised to me when I get back into the states next month, and people call that my newest death machine.

I still don't have a graceful way to descend stairs on roller blades, but cannot resist the appeal of a smooth, silent glide powered by the subtle turns of the ankles.

When my neighbors' air conditioning units turn on, the alleyway rumbles with ancient oscillating fans, and I know that all they're doing is making the world beyond their rooms a sliver hotter. That's why the petty part of me smiles whenever I see their dog lifting a leg over the rusty old machines.

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14 May 2014 23:56


Summer


This is the summmer I wished for when I was 15. Silly foodservice jobs, spending all my savings on irresponsible toys, planning long trips that might never happen.

15 year old me would be proud.

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12 May 2014 22:30


Ant Torture Device


When I removed the plastic window seals from my room with the coming of warm weather, I left a residue of sticky tape that I never bothered to clean off. Ant war season started up again, and there's a yearly battle fought on my windowsill. The winners do such a thorough job of clearing away the dead that it rarely bothers me when thousands of insects are swarming for a few square inches of space in my vicinity.

The only place where I cannot tolerate ants is the kitchen, and regardless of how obsessively fastidious we are with making any scrap of food inaccessible, there are always little drops of grease of flecks of crumbs hidden somewhere. The scouts lay down a scent trail that calls other scouts.

The tape residue around my window effectively seals my room from ant invasion; there's a pile of stuck ants wiggling helplessly in one corner, and their comrades sadly march away and deem this area inaccessible. This is a lesson I can learn; I've sealed up the kitchen window gaps with double-sticky tape, and watched as the scouts went into immediate panic at their path being interrupted by a thin, uncrossable barrier.

They're pressing in from either side, and I feel sorry for them, but they are still banned from my kitchen.

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09 May 2014 22:47


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