Early Birds

I am up early, 4 am. Kori should be on her way over here, she said 4:30-4:45, but it is now 5:21. I feel good, I am on my second cup of coffee, and I stretched, though not thoroughly. I am wondering why this new setup doesn’t automatically spell check, and how I can alleviate that situation. It now occurs to me why so many writers get up this early and turn their phones off, it’s cool out and the mind is lucid. This SHOULD become habitual… and most assuredly it will contribute to my growing nap habit. The hottest part of the day should be spent in a dreamy haze anyway. With the extreme temperatures yesterday, and little to no circulation and a temporary blackout; the only way to survive was to take cold showers and minimize movement… dreams really didn’t come, but reality was as stagnant as the air. I even considered going to “test out” Sam’s Clubs Freezer section. OHhhhh the thought.
This is good, I am writing, just like I promised myself I would once I got this computer. PRODUCTIVITY. So I just got a voice mail.. Kori-bean is sick! OH no… no clover picking, up early for not no reason, but I guess a different reason than suspected. I should fill up this page with words, you don’t have to read them. Pretty much I need to just get back in the habit of writing, writing, writing… and this typing thing goes a helluva lot faster than script, which I love to do, but is starting to effect my wrists. This is better for you, right?
I live in a place where a rooster crows. It is not restricted to the butt crack of dawn, though he is quite consistent with that as well. I really hope it cools off today.
So, a bird flew in here this morning, all the bright lights attract the barn swallows and since I live in a barn, the swallows run the joint in the summer months. The rafters are kind of like their summer home. I enjoy the damage they do to the bug population that would otherwise crowd the scene. Luckily the little buddy found his way out just about as quickly as he came in. It doesn’t always happen that way, most times they freak out and fly around looking to land on something, just to rest their over active heart. If it’s dark out, I find the only way to get them to leave is to turn the light on outside the door, and turn off all the lights inside, usually they fly to the light outside and you shut the door being more cautious next time. The quirks of living on a farm. The bat I found on the fly sticky trap wasn’t so lucky with his escape. The thing was pissed, and who wouldn’t be if they found themselves going out to dinner only to end up in sticky damn near impossible to escape situation. I really wanted to help it out, give it a hand. Especially since was obviously still struggling to get off. I think the barn swallows and the bats do their job for our little community. They damage the bug population, leaving me with one less thing to worry about. I also know bats have rabies, so my inclination to try and handle this little angry flying rodent. He ends up hissing, and I literally kind of holler and step back four steps with my ass puckered. Why am I puckering my ass? What do I think is going to happen to my by means of this little black thing stuck to a adhesive tube? His teeth are miniscule. And I wonder if the programming and association of bats to vampires has somehow effected my psyche. It’s harmless in it’s present state, but somewhere at the back of my mind, it’s going to magically transform into a vampire and be pissed I didn’t help it out of it’s predicament. I don’t even really read or seek out vampire based entertainment. That must just be a run off of the collective consciousness. Especially with all the current hype around the True Blood series or what ever it’s called… like I said, I wouldn’t know.
This week seems to be a folly of plans gone awry. Kori obviously needs to slow down, and her body is telling her that through the voice of vomit. This is a sign to me to attack some things around here that have been negligent, such as the mounting pile of dishes in my sink… And believe it or not, there are more mice to kill. I need to set up my “studio office,” which only means now that I have the computer and a printer, there should be a place that I use it in order to keep it clean and free of debris, and a non cluttered place to encourage good behavior like 4 am writing sessions.
Other work, move more shit, clean more shit… take a nap? I want to go back to bed, it is almost 6am, which is when one of my sleep cycles kicks in… perhaps…
Doesn’t that sound ideal? Get up at 4, start some coffee, do some stretching, sit down and write for about an hour and a half to two hours? Go back to bed for a little while, get up and start the day for real? Or just stay up and kick ass into overdrive and go for a walk…The coolest part of the day lately.
It could be the fact that winter is usually longer than the summer, and getting out of bed when it’s cold out is a million times harder than when it’s warm. All you can think about is the warm covers, and perhaps the shared body heat of the someone next to you. You ignore the fact you have to put your warm feet on the cold ground, because to acknowledge it, only makes you shiver, and you are still warm under that blanket, dreading the imposing dilemma of getting up and warm.
I only learned recently that big birds have a hard time circulating blood into their wings when it is cold out. It takes much more work for them, and they can appear sluggish in comparison the when things are warmer. It makes sense then that birds would migrate for more than just the reason of food. Cold weather really bothers their response time. In turn be careful when you see large birds near the road on cold days, on coming traffic startles them and in response they move, but not always in the best direction, and not always as fast as you would expect.
I had a large turkey vulture damn near hit my car. It was a cool morning, and there was a dead deer alongside the road that him and some buddies were munching on. As I approached they started to scatter, and most of them flew in the opposite direction into the forest. One however, headed right for the passenger window, and with an increase in speed on my part, he barely missed me. The sound of birds hitting a windshield makes me a little sick.
I remember going driving with my step mom right after I got my permit. We were driving down Road 22 off of Happy Jack toward Otto Road, and this flock of small birds was coming directly for us, one hit the window, I took my hands off of the wheel and ducked. I suppose that is a natural response to something flying at you at eye level. Karen grabbed the wheel perhaps kind of freaked out because riding with a new driver is scary enough. I think I might even have made a loud “AHHHHH!” noise, rough on a parents nerves.
This spell check thing, or lack there of, is annoying. I am ready for a nap! End of transmission….

Advertisements

Nick, this blogs for you

Well, I had plans tonight, but it seems like a day full of “Of Mice and Men” type circumstance….”The best laid plans…”
One of my employers birds died today, she only had two. This wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t in charge of the farm while their gone… Little yellow, young canaries. At about 10 this morning, I found one of them dead in the cage. I had only seen it happy and chirpy hours before, the temprature in the room was too much for this fragile animal. (Heat from skylights are lethal to canaries…) This is the second animal to die on the farm, on my watch, the last was a lamb who died quickly of fly strike, ( wherein a fly lays it’s eggs in the wound and the eggs hatch, the maggots basically kill the animal from the inside out.) Both of these circumstances are ones that a person can only attempt to prevent with no garentee their effort will work. This is my job. Only months ago the Ewes were pregnant, and in my strong desire to do a good job, I stayed up late and woke up early to make sure the new mothers were able to deliver with help… one of the lambs died in a multiple birth, it inhaled the mercomium (poop in the fluid that releases during birthing and is toxic to the animal and when the animal is not delivered soon after, results in death…) There was little I could do about the situation, a sheep will only birth so fast, just like a woman, and new mothers have the disadvantage of having a less flexible baby exit,(that is unless the mother has a history of fisting… she may not have as many problems…). I hated having to deal with this dead lamb, I did it, but it seemed to be something I never saw myself dealing with, and disgusted somewhat at the reality. I seem somewhat desensitized to the death of humans, but dead animals; even mice in a trap, gives me the willies. I will throw the traps with the mice in it away, I do not have the patience or stomach to release them with their little crushed heads, I refuse to put my fingers near their dead bodies. I would rather, pitch it while looking the other way. Not because they are cute, not because I feel bad; but because they are filthy little animals that shit on everything. They attempt to sneak in my fridge, which is a terrible place for a mouse to hang out. They had some cousin connection to the black plague. They are gross, and though I don’t feel that way so much about the bird or the lamb, it makes me feel that animal death is something I would rather not to have to deal with… oh yeah I have a dog, whom I just found out, is not going to live forever… so I guess it may be inevitable.
So dead animal, and then a stupid sting by a stupid yellow jacket. This is a new feeling I would compare to a localized zap from an electric fence. Unacceptable in my current state of mind. Icing on the cake, but I was ready to go, looking good (not that I feel any need to try and impress this Nick Johnson, but rare is a day I feel so off {went to bed at 5 am} and still look good and find myself trying to get things done faster)
SOOOO I was suppose to meet for drinks and nonsensical reminicence with Nick Johnson, but he made the mistake of leaving his contactl lens’ in far beyond their que to exit, and coupled with the local pollen allergies and his brothers cats, his eyes are too swollen to drive the drive. So Here I am. Sitting at the place we planned on meeting… typing this, a consolation prize to the other piece I was working on, and deleted. How is it with all this technology you can still inadvertantly delete 45 minutes of consistant typing? Either way, the loud college kids next to me, are disrupting what was a very quiet and prime location, and noting their age, I am sure the liquor will catch up fast which usually means “less than mellow”… Oh, it’s always interesting to see what the consolation prize will be in an active effort to cohese, be hip, social and “out” (not gay, just out in public, I tend to hermitize for those who don’t know…)
The chicken fingers are good, I am glad a place around here found chicken with fingers, wings are ok, but fingers are the best. My favorite is the one in the middle.