Burningbird: Funky Bird

April 19, 2002

Funky Bird

I am just not feeling hot today. And I am feeling hot today. I am in a funk and I'm funky.

Unlike Jonathon, I did not indulge in foods direct from the great salt lick; however, I want to indulge in visions of the Great Salt Lake.

I am sick, but I don't want to stay at home cozied up in comfy blanket sipping hot cider. That was a Past Perfect moment. I want a Future Perfect Moment.

I want to get in Golden Girl and find sharp new leaf green, tangy ocean blue, and huckleberry purple. Breath deep of air six degrees removed from an exhaust pipe.

I want to find a moment when the sun hits the trees and colors the world late afternoon green-gold, before dipping into its next show of the day, early evening purple-red-blue.

I want to listen to seagulls quarrel and sparrows cheep and crows caw and jays screech, and to the sweet notes from song birds blended into shadows, unseen but gloriously heard.

I want to walk on dusty roads, and across water slick rocks, and over sandy beaches, leaving my footprints for all to see -- for a moment. I want to watch weeds rustle with unseen creatures and proud elk sillouted against wind blown cliff and shy crab scuttling away from predatory bird-like eyes.

I want to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin and my face, and the chill of winds blowing across ice and snow and the sparkling clarity and black velvet closeness of a night lit by a thousand million billion stars.

I want to take pictures and bring them back and most likely bore you all, and quite possibly amuse you all, and perhaps send one or three of you away with thoughts of "Oh God, she's out taking pictures again. Is this going to be followed by more feminist crap?"

And I want to share with you moments of magic that occur in my world if I just get away from wires and a keyboard and a flat screen and, well, all of you.

Monday is Earth Day. In celebration of our world. Our home. All of our home. I don't care where you are, where you live, I will, eventually, inhale the air you exhale.

By the way, did you have garlic for dinner?

Posted by Bb at April 19, 2002 11:16 AM

Comments

Thanks for the reminder Shelley.

It is time we all realised we a just a small part of a bigger system called Mother Earth.

ps: I had lots of garlic for dinner. Hope you don't mind ;-)

Posted by: Allan on April 19, 2002 07:28 PM

I *always* have garlic for dinner. ;)

Hope you better soon Shelley.

Posted by: Rogi on April 19, 2002 07:47 PM

Love your pictures! Not boring at all.

Posted by: Kath on April 20, 2002 05:53 AM

I have a taste for garlic too :)

Hope you're feeling better.

Posted by: Karl aka paradox1x on April 20, 2002 01:17 PM

Um... ain't seen 'feminist crap' from you, BB - though I've seen a fair bit of genuine feminism, which is a very different and much more valid and value beast.

One real question, though: what the hell are you doing living in a city? Your work doesn't require you to: you could write anywhere. Your comments make it very clear that you need to get the hell out of there, for your health, in every sense. Sure, you need to be able to get into the city and its environs from time to time, see people, share with other geeks, the human being-in-touch: but Golden Girl can get you anywhere you need, and you know you can drive her long distances now if need be.

Those sunsets over the Bridge do matter, sure, and those walks along the dog-beach. But there are other sunsets over the coast, up and down from the Bay; the rents would be less, not more; and the air, as you say, wouldn't be six-times recycled through a badly-tuned infernal combustion engine. Your work can be anywhere in the virtual world; so your body can be (almost) anywhere you choose. So why continue to choose only the beautiful poisons of the Bay? What's keeping you there?

Much hugs, and get well soon...

Posted by: Tom Graves (xio) on April 21, 2002 09:55 PM