Beware the green-eyed flies in life
When they bite, they draw blood and sap your spirit
A green-eyed fly’s bite is more of a cut than a puncture.
On Long Beach Island in south New Jersey, they are so feared that the locals have devised a method to detect if a swarm is imminent.
The image conscience there display their children’s college flags next to Old Glory on the railings of their super-sized decks. When NYU and Brandeis and Cornell flap in your direction, the buzzy nuisances are on their way.
When the air is still and the flags lay quiet, you are safe. On a quiet morning when the wind is not kicking you can enjoy the sun and surf.
It is not a stretch to make a comparison to the monied braggarts on LBI who talk about their accumulated prizes: what acquisitions might be next on their properties. Their words can sting, too, if you are not properly protected.
Green-eyed flies are noisy fliers and as a result can often be swatted before they can cut the skin. You can practice the same avoidance techniques with the rich on this beach enclave and in life, in general.
It is easy for writers who live a freelance existence to trade places and become a mutation of the green-eyed monster, envious because they are living on the outskirts.
A writer’s life is often tumultuous; you must be armed to protect yourself against politely worded rejections and the winds of change blowing against you, not lifting you to greater professional heights.
As Billy Joel sang in Stiletto:
She cuts you once, she counts you twice
But still you believe
The wound is so fresh you can taste the blood
But you don’t have the strength to leave
So the moral of these comparisons is aim to be content in stillness. You don’t have to cut or be cut to feel alive.
