rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

A bunch of trees have piled up in my room, disguised as newspapers. I keep forgetting to remove them. They have their own spot in the garage, where they wait for recycling, but they stubbornly refuse to go there on their own. They want to be carried. Big babies. I suppose they're vengeful about having been pulped. Like it's my fault that news keeps happening, and that goods and services need to be advertised, and that the two have formed a symbiotic relationship so that disasters and specials on deodorant both end up being displayed on the same trees! I'm a victim, too! The trees have been pulped, but imagine what has happened to my brain!

The rain began before I got to sleep this morning, and was almost as effective a soporific as a cat's purr. It turned out to be a brief re-emergence of the sun which woke me. It shone for an hour, and then was concealed again before it could set. Now there is intermittent rain, occasional mist, and the utter absence of any sound of insects. When the storm has passed, the afternoons will be filled with the tiny, slow-moving gnats of autumn. They have transparent wings, which they do not fold upon landing (itself a rare event.) I sometimes manage to swipe one in midair, and it will sit on my hand for a moment so I can examine it. They are hard to see, being smaller than ants, but the wings are comparatively large, and catch the light to make of it small, ephemeral rainbows which vanish almost as soon as glimpsed. For some reason, the newspapers never mention this. Did they do so, the trees might be less resentful.

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