3 October 2010

The Rape of the Lock and taxidermied moths make for insect eroticism.
The stuffed ones that once flew have beautiful names that spur me on to write again.
Victorian obsessions with death and biology and discoveries becoming preserved and pickled appeal to my darker side. Skeletons and stuffed specimens now molting crowd my head with moth balls. Write to get them out.

3 comments:

Ma said...

Two posts late - I'm drinking gin! Very nice without the sloes. Chin chin.

anna said...

There is a moth named the Sloe Carpet. See, EVERYTHING IS CONNECTED.

Anonymous said...

You chill me to the bone with your peversion over stuffed insects.

You make me want to vomit everywhere