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There's only room for one Queen

I was going to post something last night, but I came home (after a full day of transportation problems and airport clusterfuckery) to find my apartment colonized by an army of ants. Ants in the bed, ants on my computer, ants in the bookcases, ants forming figure eights on the carpets, ants coming up out of the bathroom sink - just, ants everywhere. Also, a large population of spiders had also taken over a section of the apartment, since it was sort of like a cafeteria to them. So, ants everywhere and spiderwebs everywhere. You know, when you can see the floors and walls moving before you even hit the lights, you know you're fucked. I raced to the store, got about five cans of industrial strength bug spray, raced back home, and sprayed the bejesus out of the entire apartment. I stripped the bed and threw away the sheets. I ran water constantly in the sinks and shower. I tore down webs and smashed bodies with wads of paper towels - in my bug spray haze of rage, I think I actually reversed Time and killed things that hadn't even been hatched yet. I cried, a lot. I fell asleep about four in the morning, sitting on a chair in the kitchen with my head on my laptop, my entire body twitching at the thought of imaginary legs running over me.

As of right now, there are no more ants in my apartment - although, I have no doubt that they are remassing in my apartment buildings basement, drawing up plans and building tiny steam-driven engines of war in order to gain re-entry to Paradise. I'm going to have to convice the building manager and my landlord to spring for a professional exterminator, as I can't fight this war on my own. But their days of running roughshod over my unmentionables (i.e., rough drafts of stories and novel outlines) are over. Let it be known throughout the insect world that the Colony of One will fuck your shit up if you enter her domain again.

Marine Autumn

I owe you marine autumn
With dankness at its roots
and fog like a grape
and the graceful sun of the country;
and the silent space
in which sorrows lose themselves
and only the bright crown
of joy comes to the surface.

--Pablo Neruda.


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