10/16/2000

This morning, I spent ten minutes sitting in my truck in the parking lot of the building where I work, just watching a spider build a web in the cab, between the windshield and the passenger side door. It ran scurrying from one side of the windshield to the other, and then began to spin. On the passenger side, near the window, there was a fly, buzzing in that stupid way flies have, against the window and the post that separates the window and windshield. The spider scurried, the fly buzzed and bumped, the spider spun. I kept thinking that it would be great to just grab the stupid fly and give it to the spider, save him the trouble of building a web that I'd just brush away in seconds anyway.

As I sat, watching, I listened to Temple of the Dog playing "Hunger Strike", which always takes me back to the house on the Toggenberg road; the chill coming down with that feeling of inevitability that autumn always brings, Bob screaming to the voice on the radio "just get a fucking job if you're hungry!", which, of course, missed the point entirely, but then, Bob wasn't the sort to sit and contemplate. Bob got things done, or got others to get them done; he drank his Budweiser with a purpose, he drove his truck with a purpose, he drove his hammer with a purpose. I doubt that he ever spent any time at all watching spiders and flies, and if he did, I doubt that he had any sympathies one way or the other.

There's no point, really, just filling you in on my morning.
posted 11:51 AM