This morning the birds are contentedly nibbling away in the Bird Park outside my window. The weeds are taller then ever, but the taller they get, the more they like it. You could almost say the backyard has gone to the birds but it never was landscaped in the first place. We tried doing a lawn on the cheap but it failed. The effort did result in a more interesting variety of weeds however. Anyway, lawns are stupid. Especially in a desert. Think about it. In the first place, weeds are free. They don't require any watering or maintenance. You don't have to go out and weed em. Plus they hold the dirt down. And the more the merrier, as far as the birds are concerned. They love wandering around under the towering stalks eating the tasty seeds I sprinkle for them. You may think I’m exaggerating about how virle the weeds are. I only snap off the tops when they poke over the 8 foot fence. Out of respect for the neighbors. It is, truly, the least I can do.
Plonk's back since I stopped putting out so many crow goodies. As you might remember from an earlier exciting Bird Park update, he started hanging out next door while we were in Mexico and, o_pain_o_me_heart, he didn't dash home the minute we returned. But I don't blame him. He's a shy fellow and doesn't care much for raucous types. Crows land with a thump and stomp through the crowd snapping up everything in sight. They're a pain in the ass but they're grand. I wouldn't want Plonk to know this but I'd love riding around on a crow's back. Or better yet, a magpie's. But Plonk is number one around here; Plonk and the little birds. I haven't seen Plonk's girlfriend lately but then I'm staring at the monitor most of the day and forget to look out the window. Anyway, here's a photo of Plonk from this morning.
Language itself is a barrier.
10/08/2004
09/08/2004
Shakespeare and the Clown
HAMLET
They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah?
First Clown
Mine, sir.
Hamlet
Act 5 - Scene 1
-------------------------
Number nine. La Calavera is the last card of this silly Tarjeta del Días extravaganza single-digit-day-in-August birthday party I sucked myself into. Like yesterday, the bug backed out so Will volunteered to be presenter again. Poets always get the dirty work. Part of the job. So... if today's your birthday, don't say you didn't get anything. If it's not, lucky you, I guess. But then, as always, it's all in how you see things.
Whew. Some party! I'm glad it's over. I think I won't do this next year.
They are sheep and calves which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow. Whose grave's this, sirrah?
First Clown
Mine, sir.
Hamlet
Act 5 - Scene 1
-------------------------
Number nine. La Calavera is the last card of this silly Tarjeta del Días extravaganza single-digit-day-in-August birthday party I sucked myself into. Like yesterday, the bug backed out so Will volunteered to be presenter again. Poets always get the dirty work. Part of the job. So... if today's your birthday, don't say you didn't get anything. If it's not, lucky you, I guess. But then, as always, it's all in how you see things.
Whew. Some party! I'm glad it's over. I think I won't do this next year.
08/08/2004
Shakespeare and the Spider
LEONTES
How blest am I
In my just censure, in my true opinion!
Alack, for lesser knowledge! how accursed
In being so blest! There may be in the cup
A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart,
And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge
Is not infected: but if one present
The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known
How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides,
With violent hefts. I have drunk,
and seen the spider.
A Winter's Tale - Act 2, Scene 1
-------------------------------------------------------
Understandably, the bug did not want to attend today's Tarjeta del Días so the task naturally fell to Bill as interim copy editor at the Ashabot. Yes, it's a dirty job but poets always get the dirty jobs. At least, that's my experience.
If you're thinking that I am exploiting Wills, that he's over-qualified and the arrangement is an offense to him personally and the scholastic tradition in general...hell, doesn't bother me. Times are hard for poets so it's good for both of us. He's glad for the work and I'm glad for the help and the company. With this morning's drawing, we're debating what knowledge acceptance will not temper.
How blest am I
In my just censure, in my true opinion!
Alack, for lesser knowledge! how accursed
In being so blest! There may be in the cup
A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart,
And yet partake no venom, for his knowledge
Is not infected: but if one present
The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known
How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides,
With violent hefts. I have drunk,
and seen the spider.
A Winter's Tale - Act 2, Scene 1
-------------------------------------------------------
Understandably, the bug did not want to attend today's Tarjeta del Días so the task naturally fell to Bill as interim copy editor at the Ashabot. Yes, it's a dirty job but poets always get the dirty jobs. At least, that's my experience.
If you're thinking that I am exploiting Wills, that he's over-qualified and the arrangement is an offense to him personally and the scholastic tradition in general...hell, doesn't bother me. Times are hard for poets so it's good for both of us. He's glad for the work and I'm glad for the help and the company. With this morning's drawing, we're debating what knowledge acceptance will not temper.
07/08/2004
El Cotorro
El Cotorro looks a little bit freaked out, but I sure feel better. Okay. You've got your friggin card for the day. Now go do something productive. Jay-sus. I've got work to do. Providing you with these 10 seconds of entertainment has already laid my morning waste.
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