11:00 - 2004-11-20
buggin'
Grasshopper on my window-screen. A big, brown, biblical-plague harbingin' mofo. Been there for about three days. The location strikes me as vulnerable to bird attack, and since there's nothing green up here to sink one's mandibles into, why? Why eye level with me at my desk here on the second story?
At some point yesterday I became convinced that this invertebrate shell housed the re-incarnate soul of my grandfather. 'Cause he was handsome in the same lanky, aggro, way, and, well...I dunno. There was something personal behind that intense, hundred-faceted, stare. Also, when I approached the screen, said "Grandfather?" and waved, he answered with a little circling motion of a left leglet! As the temperature dropped last night, I became agitated- wondering whether I ought to open the window and let my grandfather hop inside where it was warm. V, who'd been watching me pace and fret from the sofa, greeted this suggestion with an expression befitting her gender's general distaste for insect-kind and suggested that "maybe (she) should stay over some other night".
"But c'mon! I mean, if he's not my grandfather...why on earth would I even have gotten that impression? That's like, crazy."
Um, yeah, correct. That last part. Anyway...here's another possibility we came up with: G-R-A-sshopper, G-R-A-ndfather...mistaken identity through phonetic proximity (alliterative allusion)?
Shit is spooky out here in the sober world.
