On squid (procastination v.2)
An overly fanciful rendering of Vampyroteuthis infernalis. Nice name. I'd like my first name to be infernalis too.
A better angle. I love the huge eyes and the lush red colouration. Makes it look so adorable.
It's unique, though. Neither squid nor octopus. It looks like a squid, so I'll call it that. But really, it's not.
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I resent long project meetings. It's useless and it saps people's time as they try to come to a consensus on what to do. It's like a game of "oh, but we need to do this together" shit that wastes everyone's time as they secondguess themselves and each other.
Yesterday during a project meeting I went with a 4 page detailed outline with sub-sub-subpoints. It would have taken us less than an hour.
I ended up staying for one and a half more. Telling my groupmates (physics major, arts major) stupid stories about nature. Crows fighting over useless things and espionage tactics as employed by cuttlefish. Gory shit about parasites.
That is something I really enjoy doing. Telling people stupid stories that are real. Even if I resent long project meetings.
Later they told me they enjoyed it a lot, and they learned a lot more about biodiversity than in class. I didn't disagree. I was bored out of my mind during class too. I mentioned that it wasn't hard, and all they had to do was look out the window. It's learning how to see that's difficult.
It's like how people can stomp through mangrove and scare the heck out of anything in a kilometre radius and stomp back out to say they saw nothing. I think people need stories to understand the concept of biodiversity. There's no sense teaching biological concepts without stories because it's like making me like Jane Austen. It's something that happens to other people.
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So -teuthis.
I think death by vampire squid (if you were a deep sea creature of appropriate size) is reasonably romantic. As deaths go.
At depths like this, muscle is a horrible luxury. The vampire squid hunts by extending its tentacles into a sudden bloom that descends upon its hapless prey, enfolding it within a squiddy cocoon of living flesh.
I always wonder what it's like. One moment you're moving around doing whatever it is you're doing, and the next you're completely surrounded by stretchy and soft that's pushing you towards crushing beaklike jaws. Like when you were a kid and you got hold of a huge umbrella and closed it around yourself.
It's dark, of course. It's always dark, all the time.
A better angle. I love the huge eyes and the lush red colouration. Makes it look so adorable.
It's unique, though. Neither squid nor octopus. It looks like a squid, so I'll call it that. But really, it's not.
-
I resent long project meetings. It's useless and it saps people's time as they try to come to a consensus on what to do. It's like a game of "oh, but we need to do this together" shit that wastes everyone's time as they secondguess themselves and each other.
Yesterday during a project meeting I went with a 4 page detailed outline with sub-sub-subpoints. It would have taken us less than an hour.
I ended up staying for one and a half more. Telling my groupmates (physics major, arts major) stupid stories about nature. Crows fighting over useless things and espionage tactics as employed by cuttlefish. Gory shit about parasites.
That is something I really enjoy doing. Telling people stupid stories that are real. Even if I resent long project meetings.
Later they told me they enjoyed it a lot, and they learned a lot more about biodiversity than in class. I didn't disagree. I was bored out of my mind during class too. I mentioned that it wasn't hard, and all they had to do was look out the window. It's learning how to see that's difficult.
It's like how people can stomp through mangrove and scare the heck out of anything in a kilometre radius and stomp back out to say they saw nothing. I think people need stories to understand the concept of biodiversity. There's no sense teaching biological concepts without stories because it's like making me like Jane Austen. It's something that happens to other people.
-
So -teuthis.
I think death by vampire squid (if you were a deep sea creature of appropriate size) is reasonably romantic. As deaths go.
At depths like this, muscle is a horrible luxury. The vampire squid hunts by extending its tentacles into a sudden bloom that descends upon its hapless prey, enfolding it within a squiddy cocoon of living flesh.
I always wonder what it's like. One moment you're moving around doing whatever it is you're doing, and the next you're completely surrounded by stretchy and soft that's pushing you towards crushing beaklike jaws. Like when you were a kid and you got hold of a huge umbrella and closed it around yourself.
It's dark, of course. It's always dark, all the time.