Once I had a little game
I liked to crawl back into my brain
I think you know the game I mean
I mean the game called 'go insane'
Now you should try this little game
Just close your eyes forget your name
Forget the world forget the people
And we'll erect a different steeple
This little game is fun to do
Just close your eyes no way to lose
And I'm right there I'm going too
Release control we're breaking thru
Way back deep into the brain
Back where there's never any pain ...

Doors -- Celebration of the Lizard

I was sitting in my backyard on Sunday when I heard a thud behind me. Now, I live in the middle of the city and my backyard is quite small. It is also surrounded by brick buildings, meaning that sound is a bit amplified. I looked over my shoulder and there was a pigeon lying on my barbeque (not on the grill rack, but on the lid, thankfully). Although pigeons are plentiful in my neighborhood, they don’t generally drop out of the sky. I carefully moseyed over to see what was going on with said pigeon and could see it was bleeding from various puncture wounds but was still alive. Rather than risk a pigeon attack to my bare skin, I went inside to get some oven mitts. I know this is a strange choice but it’s all I could think of.

On my way back out I peeked out of a window to see if anything had happened with my pigeon guest. Well, it was much worse off than when I left. It was being eaten by a hawk. A huge hawk. Alive. On my barbeque. In my backyard. In the middle of the city. First thought: ICK. Second thought: this is kind of cool. Yes, I watched the hawk eat the pigeon (there was no chance of CPR or anything else to save its life). Yes, it was fascinating. Yes, I feel a little bit bad but there wasn’t really anything I could do to save the pigeon.

End result(s): (1) the pigeon carcass went into the dumpster, carried by my dishwashing glove clad hands (dish-washing gloves are more easily washed than oven mitts); (2) the hawk had a great lunch; and, (3) I continue to wonder where the hawk went after eating and if I’ll see it again. It was, as I already mentioned, huge and it seems improbable that it would live in the city. Certainly stranger things have happened. For example, a puppy or small child could have landed on my barbeque. I admit it; I'm a bad person because I would value those lives more than a pigeon's and, in either of those situations, I would have fought the hawk. With my oven mitts.

But that would be a much different story.

You know, in a few years you will be at the age where your chance of getting married starts dropping.
Fuck you asshole. If I wanted to be married I’d stay married. I’m here for meds, not for advice.

Oh really?

Yes, so if you’re holding out for prince charming, you may want to reconsider.
You fucking fuck. Get your beady little eyes off me and give me my pills.

I know there’s no such thing as prince charming, but thank you for the advice.

Just thought I should let you know.
Yeah, I’m sure you were watching out for me. Just write the scrips and go home to your 5th trophy wife.

Is that all then?

I guess so. Here you go.

Thanks. Fucker. God damn it. Why can’t I get the lid off this bottle?

and wish him a happy birthday! He's crossing over to the other side (30!) so can use lots of well wishes.

Don't even try to meditate when the neighbors are filming a horror flick in their backyard.

Make a milkshake instead.

Fresh strawberries and vanilla ice cream.