| You know how birds, when bored or in distress, pull out their own feathers? That's me. I shouldn't do that, not if I ever want to fall into one of those "beautiful" catagories again, by anyone's standards. It's at least noon and the bird's still going, but now he's got an echo, another bird copying him perfectly. Every now and then, instead of a shrill whistle, they sing the first three notes of a song in the jungle book, the one with the elephant (hup 2 3 keep it up 2 3), sometimes repeating each other, sometimes dueting, sometimes collaborating (you sing a note, I'll sing a note) playing around with rhythm and time signature, but usually keeping consistant with the movie version. When I get home, I'll identify those 3 notes. Meanwhile, despite the strangeness of this exchange, I wish it would stop, it's horribly annoying and I'm trying to eat my American prepackaged snack food in peace. It might be C-E-G but I'll check that later. What is the other name for mockingbird?? Maya bird? I think that's it...no, Myna bird. Is that it? There's plenty of attractive people my age here, problem is they're all female, and I don't really feel like having any female companionship of any kind. Actually, I don't feel like having any companionship, right now, where I'd have to talk or listen. I need to find someone who speaks no English but understands me anyway and can provide just the companionship I need- another body in the hammock and eyes that leave nothing to be said, a complete and silent partnership. As it is, though, I'd rather be alone than try to make small talk. Why can't life be like a book, where occasional exchanges and understandings are made without speech of any sort, and people understand people, and people are deep? If a stranger were to appear right now and lay in the neighboring hammock, I'd do nothing but accept him. "Hand me that bag please" "Thanks" and when Tristessa (a lent gift from Rory, thank you my boy) tires me, perhaps a nod in the direction of the bar, perhaps only then permitting idle chit chat between sips. But life is not a book, and things like that don't happen, and the world isn't teeming with deep people, not by far. I'd make things like that happen if I could only know who would be receptive and understand. Perhaps in Europe. This continent's too paranoid and I'm 1000 times less at home among the shallowness and seemingly never ending idiocy than I am in Europe. Or perhaps in Ann Arbor. College towns are fairly effective emobodiments of an intelligent, deeper, bohemian, European, (and often drug-high) spirit. The bird is crying now and makes a sound like air being let out of a balloon, when you pinch the end and pull it out to the sides. You know what I mean. It's hard to describe. I have appreciation for pigeons and their warbling coo and oil-rainbowed feathers, but I cannot love these birds, with their hard yellow eyes and rubber screams. A pigeon is just a gray dove- or is a dove just a white pigeon? Even crows and ravens, which scare me and mean death, I can appreciate, for those reasons, despite the caws. These birds are like small crows in appearance (though sometimes brown instead of black) with long tails and they do not scare me. Their eyes are piercing but not sad or frightening, just foolish looking, bold, cocky idiots. The shower here reminds me of the shower at your cabin. Such a perfect little shower, where you once thought of me quite favorably (you never let me see your.. train of thought... sneaky) Someday (since "now" means little in terms of someday) we shall, mark my words, go use that shower for what it's so obviously made for. I wanted to stay in that cabin in a year, spring break senior year. Now, that might be too soon a someday. But someday. I will track you down for that purpose, don't think I won't. I just hope nothing happens to that shower. I remember showering in Tremblant, though more the before and afters. Lovely. I'm afraid to wonder how many pills I've taken since I've been here. Not a dangerous amount, I'm sure... I can't help it, my head won't quit, and everything else joins in as it pleases. I swear the Myna birds never stop whistling bars from songs you've heard. They do it just to drive you mad with a sense of recognition-but-not-identifcation, and before they sing they gather up their feathers like a fat old woman her petticoats and fluff up and let 'er rip then shrink as if the awful shrieking had used up every drop they had, but actually, they're ready to go again in a matter of minutes. Is Jack Kerouac Buddhist? In some ways I'm glad im not an extremely and sterotypically attractive person. Sure it looks like fun, but... then that's all I'd be to people, maybe even to myself. Attractive people get all the breaks, its true, but so many of them are empty (perhaps because they get all the breaks) and it's sad to be empty. Stupid people, people who don't THINK, they make me sad for them. Relying on impermanent physical attractiveness is a bad idea, even worse if you don't have that attractiveness. Ugly people too stupid to know that they are not sterotypically attractive, and who pretend to be, rely on it, don't THINK...they make me even sadder. **Note, I say "ugly" as meaning stereotypically not extremely attractive. I tend to think that no one is physically ugly, or at least very few people. What is not attractive is still interesting and therefore appealing in it's so called "ugliness". Beautiful plump tan mexican girls...I'm so jealous. I miss...what? Nothing I'm allowed to miss is missable. Still, though, I miss. This is a country of bad water and exceptional orange juice. The waiter reminds me of the vegetable-slightly retarded- boy in Amelie (mostly in appearence and manner, he IS all there.) He's kinda cute, aww. (Cute in a vegetable slightly retarded boy way) My mom suggested cutting my hair and I first thought, "No, he likes it," but then I realized that (with little or no hope that you'll ever like me again) it doesn't matter if I change, perhaps thats why I have so much. On one hand, I should attempt to be attractive to others- anyone BUT you. But then I realized that the changing I've done has been done only because it's attractive to me, and I rather like my hair long when I remember to wave or curl it...it does, however need a trim. I shall not be cutting my hair. You should change only for yourself. And when yourself wants to change, you should give in. However, sometimes people you want to like you need you to change (or to stay the same)...and isn't that changing for yourself in the long run? So really it's a much more complicated issue. |