| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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or so i've read. john paul II, not benedict XVI. |
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whatever i am it is diluted. the blood i pump crossed the atlantic in so many different vessels. i am somber tonight. i watched the crow carry a mockingbird chick from the tree, chased by two mocking birds. he flew directly towards me with the chick in his beak, flapping hard at the last minute to rise up and clear the roof. the mocking birds darted after him like.. like parents. he's been harassing them for days. it's dusk now. the mockingbirds are still busy in the neighborhood. no crows to be seen. the insectavores are out in the air, the twilight birds and the bats. i'm not a mockingbird, V. i think about it: wouldn't it be nice, someday, the right person, it could happen. i just don't know. i don't think i'm a mockingbird. is that why i'm somber? is there gloom in processes shutting down? i'm not a crow, either. the crows follow me, they haunt me. i turn a corner and there will be three on a lawn. they all look at me, they've always been looking at me. they've been waiting. i might be a vulture. alone in flight. a high glide and good eyes, an observer, a knower. there are sacrifices to be made. the featherless head is pragmatic. you don't wear a crown when you eat like that. but what freedom that gives you. what truths you can know. i want to condense my existence into a single sentence. say, "all i care about is truth." that is what i am running on right now. truth is not the same as honestly. dishonesty is a form of truth. truth is untouchable by human hands. am i making any sense at all, V? i want to explode. i want my particulate matter to scatter, to dissipate. i want to settle into everything. that's a facet of truth. a form of understanding. i was manic for three days. saturday, sunday, monday. all this energy and absolutely no focus. then, tuesday is the lull after the storm, wednesday is something softer than this, today is this. e_ just called. e_ is an artist, is smart, is a decade younger than me, is a lesbian. it is a good arrangement, because i don't want to fuck her and i don't have to worry about her getting any strange ideas. we have a long standing planned event. i envision it as akin to the scene in raiders of the lost ark where marion is introduced. a bottle of liquor and shot glasses. it was her idea. i don't pass up events like that. yes, there is some slim fear in the depth of me that her real intent is to see how the other half live. to try for pole position, if you understand my vernacular, V. and i think you do. of course, she probably has a similar slim fear that i intend to see if a little deep dicking won't straighten her out. which i don't, and likewise, i'm pretty sure my fears unfounded. it is rooted in the dark, fecund soil of paranoia that houses my ideas that all my male friends want to ditch their wives or girlfriends and give me the ol' gay-go. these fears are like a row of marigolds in a bed along the walk to your house. you should see what i have in the backyard. regardless, i have a strong intent to stay single. and with that, somehow i've convinced myself i can only handle celebacy. not something you'd understand, V. not with your laundry list of the wet and squirming. not something i could have convinced myself of ten years ago, either. i don't know who i am, V. i'm intent on finding out. i have to do that alone, without the storm clouds of my addictions. i am addicted to sex. i've broken the other ones. now it is time to break the sexual addiction. that's a lot easier to explain, now. or, admit. know thyself. who said that? yeah, we don't know. but it is was inscribed on the lintel of the temple of apollo at delphi. we're all me, i was certain of that. i've been looking for the answers introspectively. we're all me. it should be in there, then, shouldn't it? i'm not so sure anymore. i think the answers are in the understanding of everyone else. of everything else. it's not we're all me. it's we're all. the difference is important. jesus, what am i writing? i'm babbling all over the map. today i was on the ridge. i was looking for vultures. i saw one, so far away. i took a picture of some fence posts. there was something on one of the fence posts, and when i took a look it was some small mammel leg. fur and nails intact on the foot, and then the skinned, dried muscle along the leg. the leg existed to the hip, and then there was nothing else. left by some bird of prey. and two flies. so i went to swap lenses, and when i had done that i heard the sound of a thousand flies. bees. i was standing on a path by an old rusted barbed wire fence and completely within a swarm of bees. my first thought was, should i be afraid? but there was no pond for me to run and jump in, and besides, the camera, so i decided not to be afraid and just stood there. they hovered about me for ten seconds, or maybe that is how long it took for the swarm to pass by me. the bee colony is like a single organism. no bee can survive without the colony. not for long. we the people have decided this is not the case for humans. are we right? this is the time of year for bees to swarm, or so i have learned. this is how they create new hives. first the queen leaves with her best crew of worker bees. and then the virgin queens depart, all with their own contingent. the swarm flies until it finds a new hive location, and shop is set up. i can still feel the sound of the bees in my head. in the white noise i've blanked out of my consciousness. it is preceived and unheard. before today i'd only seen a swarm of bees once before. i was turning left from the blvd onto D street. while i was waiting for the light, the cloud of bees crossed the blvd with traffic and floated up into the beams of the building under construction. that was about two weeks ago. it feels like the hand of god is just behind me. like god wants to pat my back and rub my shoulders a bit, but at the same time god knows that is not a possibility. it would reveal too much. does that make sense, V? does any of this make sense? e_ called back. she's not going to make it tonight, but insists that the night is coming soon. i'm not disappointed. i'd rather be alone tonight. and soberly proceeding towards whatever this is i'm looking for. |
It is thought that crows and ravens possess "higher intelligence" i.e. close to humans. Like other oscine passerines (songbirds), mockingbirds have two sets of vocal cords, and is able to control each independently. |
i buy that. |
i remember watching some nature show where a crow was actually fashioning tools out of twigs to fish insects out of a log. |
It was, needless to say, really disgusting. Crows and ravens are wicked smart. Almost alarmingly so. |
maybe not against a truck. but in general, in the animal kingdom. no vultures in the sky at the moment, but i just saw a black bird in high altitude pursuit of an egret. |
Come simply, so it seems to me. |
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I've always wanted a pet buzzard/vulture. They probably don't need to do the vomiting thing for defense,cause they're not particularily aesthically appealing,upon close inspection.I suspect they carry a rather rancid odor,too. But I'd still like to have one.I'd train him to ride on my shoulder.[I just kinda worry that he might eat my ear] |