October 5, 2008

"you know i have the transmigrated soul of a composer" writes our favorite insect, blogging cockroach.

Yesterday's last post, with its showy outdoor insects -- bee and butterfly -- lured the cowering, timorous bug from the shadows. It's not easy hopping about on the keyboard, and these days there are new dangers. Here then, in full, is what blogging cockroach had to say:
ooh that is such a beautiful picture


brings a tear to my beady eyes to think
of a world of light and air and pretty flowers
while i'm stuck under the fridge in the dark
except when i can get to tommy's computer
--tommy is the boy whose computer i use--
and all that beauty makes me think of music too
--you know i have the transmigrated soul of a composer--
and i do wish tommy would put on the music i ask for

now, what music does that scene remind you of...
me, i think of a bartok string quartet
tommy's usually playing the ramones

anyway, speaking of air
tommy's mom got a new macbook air
you know the one you could wrap fish in
if you're not careful
tommy wants one too
says it will eat less space in his back pack
only trouble is i watched mom snap that thing shut
i asked tommy how could he make sure
he wouldn't just slam that sucker shut when
i'm in the middle of a comment
he says there's lots of room between the keys
sorta like an old typewriter my great great great, etc.
had to hop around on,
but could also hide in when the time came
no room to hide near modern technology i'm afraid
my only hope would be to flatten myself out
next to the command key, which has a flower on it

anyway, i told tommy he could just leave me the fish
after mom mistook the computer for a freezer bag

she was wondering if she could get a glass of sancerre
to calm her nerves at the genius bar
I'm touched by the solace of the non-flower on the command key, and I wonder what a tear would look like in beady eyes of a cockroach. How can I show my feeling? I've added a thumbnail of the picture that moved the little beastie and a link to help readers understand his ancestry. A here's one more thing, evidence that I did trouble myself, yesterday, to look into the eyes of the insect...

Bee closeup

... with apologies that it was an outdoorsy fellow, with a real flower.

ADDED: Yes, that's a moth, not, as I wrote, a butterfly. I talk about this mistake -- and blogging cockroach -- in the new vlog.


Pogo said...

Very very nice, Ann and BC both.

Did ol' great great great, etc. granpa proud.

Meade said...

Outstanding (whenever he's not hiding under the fridge)!

Diane Wilson said...

I'll see your bumblebee, and raise you one.

Schorsch said...

As a scientist, I feel an urge to nitpick in the face of beauty. That is actually a moth, not a butterfly. A Saturniid, I believe, one of the more exquisite branches of the phylogenetic tree.

Ann Althouse said...

Ah, yes, I know that is really a moth. It's unfair to moths to think of the best-looking moths as butterflies. Moths have such bad PR.

Meade said...

Which makes no sense when you think about it. How could we have mothers without moths? And where would we be without moth-ers? We'd all just have 'ers and that wouldn't be very reproductive.

madawaskan said...

I don't know why but I love the bumble bees.

If you could get a picture of a nice fat one the size of a B-52 that looks like it could barely achieve lift off-that would make my month.


I'm weird but I haven't seen that and fireflies for yeeeeeaaaaarrrss.

Ooooh! That reminds me-tacky I know but I've always wanted a lamp that looks like a mess of fire flies..

Jeebus! I'm off to google bumble bee images...

Susan said...

Wait a minute, I'm not a scientist but I am a butterfly gardener and, as another commenter pointed out on the original post, that is definitely a Common Buckeye butterfly not a moth. Similar eyespots found on moths though.

SGT Ted said...

The blogging cockroach reminds me of an online version of some of the characters I've run across the few times I've been in Berkeley. Kinda like performance art.

Andrew said...

I just love the Kafka story, although the point is wildly different. This fits with the bit about the Touring Test too.

There is not so much difference between the world's smartest dog and the world's smartest man.

The strange and wonderful thing is, great poetry (or great any art) works beyond the thinking mind or the feeling heart. It resonates in places we can sense but cannot go. It reaches there.