Mosquitoes in my room in October

My room is full of mosquitoes that sit on one spot on the wall, fly around and make that special mosquito sound, but don't ever seem to bite. I wonder how they survive, but I don't wonder too hard. I think this is the first time I have ever shared living space with a mosquito that didn't want to eat me. There's a lot of punchdrunk October winged insects in our house right now, hiding out, hoping for the best. It's nice to hear that high pitched whiney hum and not lash out, not want to kill. I have been gazing at what began with a couple of dozen skeeters in my room here. They're welcome. They're friendly. Now that summer's gone, the edge is off their suspicion of humans and their need to feed off them. I fooled around with a fly who landed in my book today. He was just like those humans who have a few whiskeys and start getting frisky. Friendly kind of fella.

Having spent the whole summer with the strong desire to kill every time I met one of these guys, I find this current situation incredibly relaxing. I leave my window open at night and they seem to multiply. There's now what looks like five hundred benign mosquitoes and one very happy thin-legged spider hanging out in my sleeping chamber. It's quite spectacular to look at. The skeets are in all the various life stages, from babyskeethood to the one that's currently getting death-hugged by the thin-legged spider, and the carcass from my last impulse to kill a mosquito, that marks the wall, that I haven't had the inclination to wipe off. These skeets are fucking, fighting, dying, grooving, lifelessly alive, moving. All in full view of the entire mosquito population of the room, and me. Nothing hidden from view. Totally honest mosquito living.

The only thing I don't see them do is eat. I'm really the only bit of meat around and they're certainly not digging into me, not even particularly interested in my existence, really just my laptop screen when I sometimes turn the lights out, and then they dance over the flickering surface of the slideshow screensaver that shows pictures of Lucy, whippets, family, Irish landscape, friends, Freddy's, new york city. The baby ones zip around in circles, moving ecstatically, unaware that they've just been born at the wrong time of the year to have any kind of a productive or happy or long life. The older ones just sit around, sitting. An occasional trip near my ear to make that special whiney zz sound, which I'm growing to love. I never thought it could be like this with mosquitoes. I'm really enjoying their company. I mean it. I love watching them.

Ah who knows, maybe I'm just a mosquito too. What proof do I have that I'm really a human being ? Hearsay! A giant mosquito in a headscarf and heels!

Gonna kill you mister mosquito man

I've been feeling interesting combinations of feelings lately, sort of a bit like cornflake pizzas or jambalaya meringue, stuff that sounds impossible but works out kind of gorgeously in the moment. So today, it's sober and electric. Got the blues, and got electric. Yeah, I know. That makes me sound like Gary Moore. Well, so be it.

A mosquito slipped into my room while I was climbing back in from the fire escape. I said to him, "I feel like murdering you, little creature" and proceeded to interact with him in perfect consonance with my intention. The little creature had other ideas, however, and his DNA is clearly hip to this kind of jive, and how to deal with it. He's hiding out in my bedroom, taking his chances. I know the corner he's in. He's made himself invisible. Every now and then I feel his sting. That's my cue to not touch. All you can do when there's a mosquito in the room is kill, and not touch, and whip out the lavender oil. It's a pain in the arse, but that's alright.

Ah, a shift, over the course of this post, even. From sober and bluesy, to itchy and content. High and mighty and tired. Pointless and singing.