FLYOSOPHY
Well I love those hot nights
When a t-shirt feels right
You stay up later when everything's outside
I stay up later
Why say no
And I run through the crowd when everything says go
Warm weather enticing and flirty enough to make you not want to stay away. Windows closed, doors shut on a breezy summer day almost feels e v i l. Much worse if curtains drawn and blinds flipped up. Truly, this is recipe for the antisocial, the self diagnosed depressed.
But spare them!
All summer long I leave my door and windows open. My air condition kicks into gear and I end up paying 30% more per month on my bills. This is small price to pay for the aesthetic of cool summer air flowing onto sweaty body dripped in watermelon juice and raw butter.
The other, larger price to pay, is the ambush from bugs. I respect the hunt for safety from the Sun. I empathize with them wanting to hang out in my place, it’s cool, the energy is good, they’re safe from birds.
But they are not safe from me. I am Captain Ahab to the intruders.
There are pockets of my day spent hunting:
The music will get turned to ear piercing volume, something punk; raw, seizure inducing, the kind of sound you expect to be paired with flashing lights, mobs and anarchy
The doors, windows get shut and bolted. There’s no escaping for them now, they had all day to buzz back into the wilderness. They made their bed.
With the environment set, the tension wound tight enough to pop, and my chosen weapon, a used 20th century paperback, at the ready; we begin
I’ve learned to position the sunlight behind my back. This reduces glare, makes the flies more noticeable against the light beige wall. I’ve also learned that they’re (seemingly) put into a trance at the color red. The America Flag pinned to my living room ceiling always manages to suck 2 or 3 into its orbit. Trapping them there and they fly in squares… for hours… it is wild to witness. Their flight path stays the same, 3quarter seconds this way, effortless 90degree switch, 3quarter of a second over that way, and so forth. There is some formula to a fly’s path in the air but science hasn’t caught up yet. On my less active days I lay on floor and look up at them and watch the quaring back at forth, totally at peace, not a phone in sight…
Coming up with this on the fly (ha ah ah ha…) to somehow portray the idea; there are 3 categories of fly that wander in the joint and I assume the actual kingdom of fly hood follows this hierarchy as well. It is in the way of the Jungle.
The first is pathetic. Maybe even adolescence. They’re small in size and dumb in brain. An amateur hunter could knock out 2 of these in 10 minutes with the right attitude. I honestly think this group is the Cashier Race (homage Mike Ma) of flies. I imagine this group is laughed at and ridiculed by the civilizations bullies and more outspoken, genetically gifted.
The second is your average fly. Little larger than half the size of your thumbnail and able to actually be seen on a surface from a distance. They have presence and enough experience to know there’s a hunt. They also anticipate really well.
This is a major signifier between Smart and Retard in fly world: The first group has no anticipation and will barely even move when swung. If they do move it’s into the weapon. Pathetic. But others portray incredible since of intuition.
The way around this, as a hunter, is to observe which direction the flies body is facing and swing down from that angle. If done correctly they’ll be force to fly into the object, which traps them under the weapons weight when it hits a surface.
The third group, and the inspiration for this piece (as one just blessed me with his presence), is powerful.
I assume they’re kings and queens of fly world. They’re big enough to show any onlooker they’ve survived many trials and tribulations. They’re intuitive enough to move before you get within swinging distance. I’ve come to believe members of this tier can mentally compute the range of your limb, allowing them to avoid even a close call. This group has outsmarted me before. They’ll come in, dance around loudly, make themselves at home, avoid three or four swings then fly out. Which is another skill; they appear to know where the exits are.
Take form this XYZ. Is it life experience, is it innate brains, is it witnessing others get smashed and seeing where they went wrong, is it feeling something that orders them around, helping them survive, escape, adapt, are the largest Ordained to be so?
In times of absorbing vibrational mania it is possible to get lost in this hunt. It becomes micro example of Moby Dick and Ahab or Colonel John Henry Patterson and the man-eating lions.
Jungle Rules.
Winston
Souled Idea
The Tiger’s Tear, The Gorilla’s Pectoralis Major
ps don’t swap spit with the lady from HR it’s never worth it.
