Man, what a roach.
I know the typical reaction to such an insect is one of repulsion and quickening of pace, but this roach was so one in himself, that I could hardly look away. Instead, I think I even backtracked so I could look even longer.
Unfortunately for my readers, I didn't get a picture. It's kind of one of those things where you see a beautiful landscape and no picture can quite capture the essence or depth of it firsthand. Except instead of breath-taking sky and mountains, it was an awe inspiring display of roach on pavement. Besides, he looked like he's one of those highly exclusive roaches who wouldn't let you get a picture of him, even if you asked nicely.
This roach was about all things roach. He had nothing to prove. Nowhere to scuttle off to. He was just there, being. Roaching. In broad daylight by a concrete pillar.
How do I even describe him? I mean yes, of course, the shiny brown exoskeleton had absolutely been polished to give it that special kind of crunchy, roachy gleam. He probably paid premium for a chitin infusion.
That's right, I tend to do a little more research than necessary to add local color to these writing sketches. Yesterday I wrote a sentence that featured the mustache of an inca tern. It's like I know too much, and I love knowing too much, and I can't stop.
Like, is roach energy a thing? Because this one had it. The full embodiment of what a roach should be, could be, would ever be, and he's just living that out. He looked like he had some past lives living through nuclear times and had integrated all of that awareness back into himself.
Let me put it this way: when you think of roach, you think of him. He is the image of roach that lives in your brain. I don't know why you have roaches in your brain, but for some reason when I use that word, "roach", your neurons are too busy constructing some image of this roach in your mind's eye and you're just left sitting there, thinking about a roach.
This roach.
Maybe it's because he was where he should be that he was able to look so bold, so impressive, so august. He wasn't inside of Publix, shopping or scaring the bipedals with his presence. He wasn't in anyone's house scrounging for food in the darkness, living rent free off of the filth.
No, this roach definitely pays rent. Probably has some sweet quadruplex arrangement with the sidewalk spiders.
You could just tell, man. This roach was exactly where he was supposed to be and he knew it. He knew it will all the roachy confidence. I just have to say that it was refreshing to see a roach just freely being a roach in all his right out in the wild.
At that moment I backtracked to take a second look at the epitome of roach glory, I feel like the roach and I understood each other. We didn't need to change one another or come after one another. I was too busy looking and he was busy being.
That's all life is, really.
Looking, being.
Stop thinking about roaches you weirdo,
TWS
No comments:
Post a Comment