Saturday, February 28, 2009
The Lady MacBeth of Soap
When Gregor Samsa woke up one morning from unsettling dreams, he found himself changed in his bed into a monstrous vermin. He was lying on his back as hard as armor plate, and when he lifted his head a little, he saw his vaulted brown belly, sectioned by arch-shaped ribs, to whose dome the cover, about to slide off completely, could barely cling. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, were waving helplessly before his eyes.
Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis
Unforgiveness is like drinking poison and hoping it will kill your enemies.
...I try to have compassion for all things...all living things, in particular...and yet, when I see a cockroach running across my kitchen linoleum...smack goes my bare hand, as nothing else can be grabbed quickly enough to get the fucker before he disappears into a crack somewhere...which means I’ve got cockroach pieces & guilt all over my fingers...so I go to the bathroom & wash it off with water & my environmentally conscious soap...and yet, some little brown slice o’ cockroach sticks to the soap...and it won’t come off...seriously, it’s like the Lady MacBeth of soap...