I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas. My fingers are Santa's little helpers. My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments. I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn. Sisyphus, sweating uphill. Bukowski, scribbling away in rooming houses. A river always flowing. I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
Monday, March 01, 2004
Life Lesson Number 4335...
Was just in the backyard reading Orbiter by Warren Ellis. It started to rain. I noticed a bird peeking his head out and making a ruckus in the big, ol' palm tree covered in ivy that we have by the patio. I thought that it was nice. Maybe he was appreciating the sporadic drops just like I was, y' know? Then I saw another bird fly by really fast. The bird in the palm tree ducked his head back in, but something fell to the ground in the bushes. My cat stopped performing crazy-eight circles around my ankles and darted to the spot in the bushes. It was a baby bird. My cat had it in it's mouth and then ran away. I yelled at him and he took of, probably to finish his meal. I looked back up at the spot where I saw the momma bird. She wasn't there. I wish I had a ladder, so that I could see if she was crying up there in her little birdy home. I don't have a ladder - so, I went back in my human-y home and typed this.
The end.
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