Monday, August 4, 2008

babbling story of a completely mundane event.

after the friends that had been keeping me company that night, important people in my life, left, i sat down to my familiar seat in front of the computer. i was turning off the video that was playing, i was showing off the david lynch podcast to the girl who had introduced me to sifl and olly. i went to go choose what i would be listening to on the ol' itunes while i got back to work. a fly flew in front of the computer and i instictively grabbed it out of the air. this summer i've had a hard time keeping them out of the house, they like to hang out on my porch and do laps and socialize in the shady shelter it provides, and my metal security screen door has a hard time reminding me to keep it shut religiously. truthfully the ugly black metal door barely lets light and air in, and i get a nice cross breeze with it open. my LA air conditioner. so needless to say i'm not anal about bugs in the house, although they do get on my nerves. little moths and gnats are more common than the fat summer housefly that i just ninja grabbed. i had him cupped in my hand and could feel him frantically buzzing around in my hand. i gave him a squeeze to kill him and dropped him in the ash tray on my desk. its actually a tiny tea-lite holder and serves as my small indoor ash tray for when i smoke my spliffs inside, which i do occasionally, lately while i'm painting a lot. in fact i had just lit one. i realized my light squeeze of death wasnt enough to kill him, and as soon as i popped him the the ashtray (which did have some ash in it), he started buzzing around, i had only startled him (or her) (for story-telling purposes we'll call it a him). I quickly poked him with the lit end of my spliff, but i just grazed him because he was buzzing around like a maniac. he was still quite alive, but lacked the will or ability to fly. so i poked him again. again, it was not enough. so i poked him again. then in the head, and held it for a second. still walking around. i had to suck on the spliff a little to get it going again, and when i got it close to him he still freaked out and buzzed all ovet the place. the whole time i was doing this i was kind of fighting my concoius. after 3 or 4 times i started to feel bad for the fly. what did he do to diserve this treatment? all he was doing was cruisin around lookin around for something to eat probably, he was probably distracted by my bright computer screen. i was torturing this insect, and it started to become an internal conflict. i stared at the little guy, his metallic green body covered in ashes and his wings all burnt, staggering around in a dustbowl of ash. do flys feel pain? i'm sure they do, they must. just because they run off pure instinct and have no real intelligence doesn't mean they dont have the capacity to feel pain. i have already experienced this same debate in my head when i was a small child, so frankly my internal dialog at the moment was nothing terribly worked up or heavy. i think the result of my chain of thought over the fly-torture debate, and also my kind of intuitive not thinking about it self, came to the same decision i had as a little kid: torture the fly, feel a little bad, keep doing it because its pretty entertaining to see how long they last, feel a little more bad because i'm doing some fucked up shit to this creature, keep doing it a little longer, then finially put it out of its misery. i never feel bad for just killing a fly or moth or anything in the house, i mean they're pests. i suppose on some deep level i believe all life is valuable and that what right do i have killing another organism, but on the other hand give me a break. i'm not even a vegetarian so that would be a really naive way to think. but torture? thats different. no living thing disserves to be tortured for the fun of it, and just because he happens to be a house fly doesn't mean his pain and panic isn't valid.

on the other hand though?


i grabbed a pencil from the desk and smooshed his body with the butt end of it (it was one of those drawing pencils with no eraser). his body still moved when i pulled it up. so i smashed his teeny little head against the side of the glass. that did it. his big red eyes popped. his exo-skeleton still seems pretty intact.

then felt like procrastinating some more and wrote a story about it.


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