I am a cockroach
The other day I was cleaning out my basket of scarves and hats in preparation for the cold weather and a giant cockroach scuttled forth. It was the biggest cockroach I have ever seen, bigger than in the tropics even. Perhaps it was even another type of insect. I wasn't sure, so I let it crawl onto a piece of paper and relocated it into the garden which is where I'd like the insects to live. Another evening we had friends around to a barbeque with damp wood (the blokes organised that one), the food was slow to cook and there was much debate and beer drinking. One of the older children started walking around with Grace's dolls stroller on her head, waving her arms around like a big alien insect, it was an absolute crack up.
And yesterday I spent some time in the back yard, on a glorious sunny autumn day, one of the best Melbourne could offer, perfection so perfect that you wish you could it bottle for winter, also with a dolls stroller on my head. Pretending to be a cockroach. Despite the aforesaid perfection, I did think about Kafka and about the man who when he awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a monstrous vermin. To be honest, I can't remember whether I've read the book, or somehow absorbed it through some cultural osmotic process. But even the dreary thought of waking up as a cockroach could do nothing to diminsh the glory of yesterday. It was definitely the sort of day you could get away with wearing a dolls stroller on your head, with sunglasses of course.
The night before I had no idea, no idea whatsoever to post for the April SPC theme of the absurd. I was googling, searching for absurd art, anything really, but nothing. Unlike with the political theme, which I missed due to holidays and computers and the general ordinariness and busyness of my life. Then I asked G what I should do for the absurd theme and he reminded me of Stella's antics. And told me that I was over thinking. Well, der. I am a cockroach, after all.
See more absurdity here.