We have a catch-and-release policy regarding insect life at the apartment. (And, although I have a feeling that my roommate disregards this policy when I’m not around to enforce it, it’s usually pretty well-observed. With the exception of earwigs, who get no mercy.) It’s exactly what you think–if we see a spider, for instance, out comes a glass and a magazine and we try to trap the spider, get it in the glass, and then release it, all without letting the spider touch us or get squished. It makes life exciting.

Years ago I read this poem and it stuck with me, popping into my mind every time I killed a spider, which is why I catch and release today. I don’t remember the source–I think Gary Snyder, via some Buddhist hippy quote collection–but I will find out tonight.

…fly away, tiny mite, even your life is precious.
I lift the book and blow you into the dazzling void.

Which of course echoes the Issa haiku from 200 years before:

Don’t kill him!
The fly wrings its hands,
Its feet.

(Yes, there is even a literary take on killing bugs.)

I mean, really. A pirate would knock a leprechaun silly, steal his pot of gold, and go drink rum.
Which would you rather celebrate?

I thought it would be more fun to sleep last night than to immerse myself in literature, but I do have some information to share. Like literature, I think this is important.

1.) There is a demolition derby this Saturday at 7:00 in historic Ogden. It’s at the Golden Spike Arena. I will be there, maybe with C. and M., maybe with The Lovely Susannah.

2.) Here is a recipe for ship’s biscuits. You can make these before your next voyage and they will keep a long time. They will not, however, be delicious. (Recipe from the Royal Naval Museum.)

Add water to 1lb wholemeal flour and 1/4oz salt to make a stiff dough. Leave for 1/2 hour and then roll out very thickly. Separate in to 5 or 7 biscuits. Bake in a hot oven approx. 420 degrees F for 30 minutes. The biscuits should then be left undisturbed in a warm dry atmosphere to harden and dry out.

Today, I am wearing a headscarf like a pirate, provoking all sorts of Piratical Phrases Uttered. Yar!
(Missing a picture? I couldn’t decide on just one. Go here. Waste no time. You won’t be diasppointed.)

Because literature has nothing on a kitten. (And because I forgot the book from which I was going to quote today.) Also check out kittenwar.com.

It’s typical late-winter bi-polar weather, and, while it’s only March, I thought this was appropriate:

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire...

This is, of course, the opening of T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland and is the only part most people (myself included) really get. There is a good annotated version online here, if you’re feeling scholarly. (Should have majored in English…)

It’s not that late, actually, but “Visions of Johanna” was in my head and seemed appropriate to quote here. (Hey, it’s officially the weekend now. I don’t have to try as hard to be clever.) Dylan fans, listen to the acoustic version of this from the 1966 Royal Albert Hall concert. Excellent.

“Ain’t it just like the night
to play tricks when you’re trying to be so quiet?
We sit here stranded,
though we’re all doing our best to deny it.
And Louise holds a handful of rain,
tempting you to defy it.
Lights flicker in the opposite loft;
in this room the heat pipes just cough;
the country music station plays soft
but there’s nothing, really nothing, to turn off…”

I’m afraid today’s post will be short, as we’re all trying to wrap things up so we can goof off later:

“Avoid adjectives of scale.
You will love the world more
and desire it less.”
Basho


I first came across this in a Robert Hass poem, from Human Wishes. (I’m afraid I can’t rememeber which poem. But it’s in there.)
Office Snack of the Day: Hazelnut biscotti. I made them, first toasting the hazelnuts.