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Why, you'd wonder, would a gathering like ours identify itself with a sordid-looking spider? Of all names, why Tarantula? Why not, indeed, if you reckon how the name evokes--- be it ever so facile--- a musical overture; the tongue tricky enough to make merry: Taran ! And if the word Tula* does not ring a bell to you, go yell it to Balagtas*.
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| Blame it on our sheer weakness for wordplay. Or on our wooziness when we're webbed together, and tongues slosh not only with gin or beer but with words spun like |
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gossamer. And, yes, it helps that we have more than enough sense of black humor. Or how else did we dare enshrine something as fatally seductive as the Black Widow? Who says the Muse is as anemic as any of the Spice Girls?
Last we heard, there's a fast whirling Italian dance caused by a poisonous spider's bite called Tarantella. If we seem like in the throes of it, twinkle-toed with the music of words, would you blame us then this free-wheeling penchant to strut our stuff?
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