February 10th 2009
I was small and suspicious of adults I knew it as Mango
Fly. It would start as a
pleasant tickle that was easily itched, redden quite quickly, become puss-filled and with a good fingernail,
I could pry out the culprit. A
fat larvae about the size of the eraser on the end of some pencils.
Only then did it become painful and sometimes bloody.
circumstance that invariably incurred attention from grown ups.
The ointment was a hydrogen peroxide wash, followed by iodine.
Eccentric, maybe, but always important to find fault.
Too much time in the Mango tree.
Which was nonsense.
has the Bot
Fly. Rabbits, deer,
raccoon, livestock are amongst the many that incubate them. And sometimes, I am sure, people.
this morning I was informed by a stranger from
DC., that I should consider encouraging Google Bots by developing something
called a 'sitemap'. I found
this adult supervision intensely irritating, because while I accept we are
not free, I will insist we are not 'one'.
Fly, I used to believe, lurked amongst the mango trees waiting for small
boys to steal mangos. Peroxide
wash followed by iodine was well worth the sweet taste of mango flesh.
In those days, perhaps, I had the mentality of a raccoon.
the Google Bot mincing its way like a steroid through my world is no more
than a portent of futures I care little for.
I say this because I have an experience of people and that
infectious yearning to be 'one'.