at the zoological gardens...
the two-toed sloth is a favorite of mine. but he was hiding in his sloth chalet when we came along. the flamingos always appear to my eye as oranger than pink. most of the animals were close to the pathway perimeter of enclosure. up close and personal with the tiger. so f*cking gorgeous. and then the sadness of seeing him stand and pace the wire. well. the meerkats have returned. they are another favorite of mine. sitting with paws a-dangle. kohl-eyed and black polished nails. the nephew saw the emu and proclaimed "big turkey!" indeed. oh and the galapagos tortoise was napping somewhere obscured from sight. dang it.
like we needed more pets. the brother has obtained a rather sizeable jar of goldfish. does not bode well. five years or so ago i left for a visit to texas and other southerly states. entrusted him with caesar. beloved goldfish. really. it was a feat that i managed to have that fish for so long. years. but when i returned caesar had taken the watery turnpike to the sea. brother thought it a good idea to initiate spider fumigation in my absence. but caesar was left in la casa. i think he used his last breath to curse us. no fish has withstood since. say a prayer for us.
listening: visions of johanna-- bob dylan.
today while awaiting the bus a giant crane lifted a modular lockery thingy over the bus shelter. huge. the size of a very large r.v. but more solidly built. i picked up some construction worker argot. and i saw how they shackle the edges with metal doodads. tighten them with comealongs. or is it come-alongs? dunno. they have quite a complex hand language those workers. the sky was perfectly blue. the crane vivid orange. and the weather was perfect. cold wind from the ocean and comfortably warm sun. simmering under my headphones.
it's a weakness. how i favor the beautiful human arm. the fingers and hands and wrists. if the cuffs are left dangling my want is to replace the space with my palms. which is why i identify sometimes with those shins' lines just a glimpse of an ankle and i/react like it's 1805. there's something to it. we've already seen it all. it's unavoidable really. so seeing less has its excitement.
lola is losing patience. she wants her w-a-l-k.
there's a pink silk-floss tree blooming. when i see it from the bus window i think to myself about the pink funkadoo. it makes me smile each time. i think the silk-floss blooms autumn here because in its native clime the seasons pull a switcheroo. or maybe our seasons do. relative.
listening: venus as a boy-- bjork.
tuberose tomorrow! whooot!
quite unpoopy headed indeed. yay!
hmm. i left out the umlaut again. bad bad bad.
like we needed more pets. the brother has obtained a rather sizeable jar of goldfish. does not bode well. five years or so ago i left for a visit to texas and other southerly states. entrusted him with caesar. beloved goldfish. really. it was a feat that i managed to have that fish for so long. years. but when i returned caesar had taken the watery turnpike to the sea. brother thought it a good idea to initiate spider fumigation in my absence. but caesar was left in la casa. i think he used his last breath to curse us. no fish has withstood since. say a prayer for us.
listening: visions of johanna-- bob dylan.
today while awaiting the bus a giant crane lifted a modular lockery thingy over the bus shelter. huge. the size of a very large r.v. but more solidly built. i picked up some construction worker argot. and i saw how they shackle the edges with metal doodads. tighten them with comealongs. or is it come-alongs? dunno. they have quite a complex hand language those workers. the sky was perfectly blue. the crane vivid orange. and the weather was perfect. cold wind from the ocean and comfortably warm sun. simmering under my headphones.
it's a weakness. how i favor the beautiful human arm. the fingers and hands and wrists. if the cuffs are left dangling my want is to replace the space with my palms. which is why i identify sometimes with those shins' lines just a glimpse of an ankle and i/react like it's 1805. there's something to it. we've already seen it all. it's unavoidable really. so seeing less has its excitement.
lola is losing patience. she wants her w-a-l-k.
there's a pink silk-floss tree blooming. when i see it from the bus window i think to myself about the pink funkadoo. it makes me smile each time. i think the silk-floss blooms autumn here because in its native clime the seasons pull a switcheroo. or maybe our seasons do. relative.
listening: venus as a boy-- bjork.
tuberose tomorrow! whooot!
quite unpoopy headed indeed. yay!
hmm. i left out the umlaut again. bad bad bad.
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thank you.
:D
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