State of the Dawg, latter half of March in Normal entries

  • March 17, 2014, 1:52 p.m.
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Wrote and deleted an entry. I didn’t like the tone I was taking, the keen and mew. I use that phrase more often than most living speakers of English. I like the way it sounds. It is properly self-effacing, calls to mind a cat; five pounds of self-importance demanding to be heard. No offense to you cats. You know who you are.

In a few days spring will have officially come. There is snow and ice on the ground here and it’s currently nine degrees Fahrenheit. As I drove back from grandwhelping the other evening I saw a hawk riding the thermals, perhaps hypo-thermals, above a cornfield where the snow had melted and refroze, dotting the fallow field with a number of small uneven skating rinks. The hawk wasn’t circling, but he would bank here and there to tack, he was heading north with lazy purpose.

I lost him behind a copse of skeletal Birch trees. There is nothing quite so dead looking as a winter birch. Not dead in the grisly organic sense the way that half a possum in the road is dead; but more pervasively not alive. Barren white branches against a white sky with dirty white snow covering the roots. Perhaps the hawk noticed this; it’s not an image he’ll hold for long. It is, I imagine, a huge upside; not dwelling on images that are not practical.

If ever I suggest what a practical man I am, you have my permission to cry bullshit. Heh. As you well know you don’t need my permission to do anything. I’m just saying I won’t fight you on that suggestion. I know how to be practical, rational even, I chose not to. I’ve been shocked of late to discover that practicality and even rationality are actually expected of me, I mean I am expected to be the voice of reason.

I believe in the democratic process, but it is a group very much in trouble wherein I am the best candidate to fill the shoes of the under-secretary of the voice of reason. I am one thermal away from gliding over the birch.

O brother where art thou is, in my opinion, a great movie with an exceptionally fine soundtrack. However, they fucked up the song O Death.

I think it works better this way;

Anything more and I might as well have kept the other entry. Happy Monday. Drivew some snakes from Ireland for me, willya?


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