On the Fruit Fly

Of the many uses for the fruit fly (of which, I know none, but I’m sure there are some), one of the best must be as a proxy for things and/or people that anger us.  How else to explain the vigor — sometimes, as tonight, leading to self-harm — with which we pursue them?  Or, the pleasure at a smack that meets its mark?   It’s as if every little tingly nerve and angry bit in my body is released when I can say, “Gotcha!”

That may make me a bad person.  I’m kind of okay with it, though.


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