encounter with a falcon

I can’t get over a few happenings today. This morning I felt slight tunnel vision in Handwerk’s class and made a poor thought out comment about how irritating I think Robinson Crusoe is. I meant, the godtalk, the guilt narrative, not the construction of the book itself. But I set myself up to be used as a launch pad for greater depth commentary, and everyone is so damn shy and quiet in the class I want to speak up even if it is stupid, to fill the uncomfortable gaps, the gaps caused by a professor who knows so much, and who prods at us, and I felt dumb today there. Learned about Defoe’s writing a bit. Returned home for a feast because I forgot to go advising again. Wrote two tasteful parts for the second verse of a new song. Now the chorus is boring in comparison. Will have to spruce that up too. Other things occurred. I read poetry. Drank coffee. Printed poems. Responded to an acceptance letter I got from a small poetry publication who accepted my “Mariana” and I made some ridiculous comments revealing my ignorance to the actual location of the great oceanic rift, which I’ve thought for at least a year was somewhere in the Atlantic. Oceanography, what happened? Astronomy are you out there? What about mixology? My alcohol-themed radio show? And the other games we played and forgot. The parts of my brain that have been intoxicated out of normal worth. There are caverns plugged up with sandy saltwater. Crushed sea shells and the like. Rorschach Orca whales floating out to sea or to shore to dry up.

So a few idiotic things. Finally, and before I get to the middle section, as I walked down the hill from work, some sorority girls were yelling at people passing by to come in and donate for a rootbeer float for some charity drive of some kind, I was ambling down the hill when one started to call out to me, a heavy set blonde girl, the others skinny brunettes in shorts on this cold night, the heavyset girl says “no not him, he scares me” and I had no reply to this! I didn’t scream or frighten. I just bashfully walked on like a true psychopath. At least some wit at the dismissal. No thank you I’m lactose intolerant. Or, no thank you, to be honest you are frightening me. Or just ask, scare you? I just got off work, what is frightening about me not to invite me to your ice cream social? I obviously could not be a part of the festivities if one of the sisters had “an ominous feeling” about my stride, my walking, my red cap, my black coat, my hands thrust into my pockets, my old white headphones dangling around my neck, somewhat of a mustache surrounded by stubble, hard eyes, black jeans, black shoes, black back pack, barely making eye contact when I talked and never stopped walking, and u-turn and no how could I if your overweight friend is afraid of me? Of my presence coming down the hill? And the dumbo 18 year old gall to say that I am frightful to the other girls while I am in earshot.

Why this affected me. I could have at least put some personality into my response. I put nothing. I did not try.

Earlier regret from night shift driving. A man was kneeled down taking pictures of the roof of the Convention Center down town. I wanted to yell at him “How conventional!” and drive off.

Then the episode with the Burke Gillman falcon. I heard a peeping from above, wondering what in hell it was, and realizing I passed it, looked up to see a beautiful amber hued bird of prey sitting on a branch with angry yellow eyes, piercing eyes, a hooked beak, and suddenly it swoops down over me toward the powerlines and a small green belt near the 45th street viaduct. I notice there is a mouse or a shrew in the great bird’s talons, peeping pathetic little peeps for help that will not come. Elsewhere a female falcon is brought a bouquet.


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