The injections aren't working.
Or they're working, but not in the way we planned.
I can see the future now - but only glimpses of night scenes in which nothing happens. A car waiting at a light. A drunk man trying to unlock his front door at four in the morning. My wife brushing her hair in the dark.
Except for the birds.
Those erupt in broad daylight: loud, flapping, squawking, cackling birds up in a blinding sky.
I always find myself in the middle of the flock, struggling to keep up.
Sometimes, I can understand their language.
This has been a severe disappointment.
They are stupid creatures, yapping constantly about food or hissing at each other in petty squabbles.
They shit frequently in the middle of conversations and become easily distracted by objects on the ground.
They have no literature, no art, no conception of history, religion or politics.
I mention Joyce and Kafka but am forever met with blank stares and "Food, food, food, food, food."
The future, thus far, has been disappointing. We will continue our experiments tomorrow.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
thought dream 030309
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7 comments:
Kafka's Metamorphosis :)
I'm enjoying the thought dreams.
And the Joyce/Beckett thing was something else.
Don't be so disappointed in the birds. Maybe they can learn.
They sound a lot like toddlers, that's all.
Crys,
Did you see the clip from the Orson Welles version of The Trials?
Liam,
I loved the Joyce Beckett video. Have watched it several times. "In the river . . . all rivery was it." "I love those little pencils, small, small like the first pencil."
Jeff,
I don't know where the bird thing came from. I've always loved birds. Just suddenly struck me, I guess, that they may not be as noble as I imagine some of them to be.
Yes, just so weird that even Kafka can be found at YouTube.
I liked your glimpses into the future, especially the shards of night that seems disconnected from one another and the surreal conversations with birds. What kinds of injections will you be taking next?
Only injections of love.
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