What to do when a bird gets stuck in your house


There’s power in that wind

I’ve been spending a lot of dreamy time these days on a 15 year old breeze.  An almost forgotten name popped up on some website or another, and after a series of rabbit holes and poking around in digital cardboard boxes, I’ve come face-to-face with a previous self.

20151221_124300.jpg

She was brave, braver than I am these days.  She also cussed a lot, probably to cover up some of the insecurities of all that bravado.

20151025_074144

It’s raining today, for the first time in what feels like months.  It came out of nowhere on my morning run, leaving me out of breath and a dripping ponytail.  I could feel the ground beneath my feet opening up, grateful for something it hadn’t realized it needed.



rattle your keys
21 August 2008, 1:08 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , ,

Sometimes I am such an asshole.

I get home and I am a mean, catty bird. I wish you weren’t here, that I could move quietly through the house, settle into its lack of response to my presence. I am tired of the world responding to my presence. I want to pull three walls close and echo my breath off them.

I know this will happen. I walk home, 45 minutes of steps, and I unravel the future before I get there. I see it from 100 feet in the air, erase the roof and look down on this mess of a being. I know it and I do it anyway.

I’m not sure why we do this; why we have to fold our angsts into new shapes and hurl them at people we love. I think I think of you as so much of myself, and so when I am tired of being myself, I am tired of being with you. It’s shitty; it’s hard not to do. I’m sorry, my love.