The hidden world
Rainy night, chilly night. Sitting in a coffeehouse on S Street in Midtown Sacramento with about an hour until they kick us out of here. So long, summer. I get the feeling we’re about to segue into fall, or autumn, or whatever you want to call it. Whatever it is, it’s my favorite season, but I like summer, too. Mainly for all the strange activity that you can pick up on if you tune in, and I’m not talking about taking acid or mushrooms or even smoking that green cross wellness medicine stuff that makes you see things and hit the drive-thrus.
I’d kinda hoped to do a longer bit tonight, mainly because I’ve got this piece in me on my favorite cheap eats. But that’ll have to come later. I’m sleepy, kinda, after going to see the much-touted Inception last night — which, as I’ve remarked elsewhere, I liked better when it was called The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeosie, and wasn’t so laden with stupid shoot-em-up scenes — and then I overslept and had to race to work this morning. Didn’t have any weird dreams like I usually do, either. Just stupid people shooting at each other from taxicabs, in hotel lobbies, at some concrete fort on a snowy mountain, in a big crumbling city. Fricka-frackin’ Hollywood.
Found this cute little NPR piece on Myrmecos’ blog, one of my fave bug-geek sites. My favorite bit comes around 1:37, when the highest-ever recorded insect, at 19,000 feet, is revealed to be a single alate termite, flapping his wings, looking in the wrong place for that choice termite poontang to start a new colony. Wonder if he was a sub, a drywood or maybe even a dreaded Formosan sub?
Yeah, betcha there’s some weird bug stuff going on above us. But not when it’s raining. —Jackson Griffith