I caught a beetle today. I'm actually mortally afraid of beetles. Too many legs, you know? Anyway, so first the beetle zooms right onto my table top, free as the air, probably enjoying the zippy joy ride. And then I clap the bottom half of a little circular plastic pin box over it. The beetle realises its trapped, and begins to struggle valiantly. I hesitate. If I accidentally let that bug go, it would undoubtably kill me in my sleep. Then I slide a piece of paper under the box and slowly lift it up, ready to clap the top half of the box back on. The beetle senses that it has a split second of a chance to escape. It powers its spindly, scary little legs and tries to ram its way out of the box. But no go. It clings on to the paper I am trying to rip out of the box.

But in the end, no matter what it did, I caught it.

It's not lying on my table, legs up in the air. I think its given itself up for dead.

Sounds like a life story isn't it? A joy ride, a trap, a struggle, the end.

I really do want to let the beetle go, I'm just too scared of the bug to do so.

Maybe that's our parents for you. They're too scared of what you might do to yourself to set you free.

Lyrics of the Entry: You can like the life you're living / You can live the life you like / You can even marry Harry / Or mess around with Ike - Nowadays, Chicago

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- - 2006-05-29
- - 2006-05-01
on The Ineffable - 2006-03-27
on being a matyr - 2006-03-23
- - 2006-03-17