The other day I bought the cartoon of Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, which I loved as a boy. Me and Sheila might watch it tonight.
I love the mongoose because he catches the cobras, cobras with their fierce, exciting hoods with that hieroglyph on the back, cobras that strike with their poisonous teeth; the mongoose is too fast for them.
If I see a cobra in my back yard I will run. But the mongoose, he will bite its neck.
Tama Janowitz on honey.
And the taste of honey is terrible, I do not like honey, it has a strange alien taste, that whirring bee flavor, there is nothing else like honey, hot not in temperature or spiciness but in that sort of preserved sunlit heat of pollen and the stale bee scent of the hive, a million organized neutered insects, the worker bees laden with the dust of flowers in little leg sacs. And some old grandmother's honey cake, dry, sticky, flavorless except for this bee stuff. It is too hideous to contemplate.