a dog sleeping on my bed.

At something like 430 am I awoke (yeah I guess I can't get past it, sorry) to the cacophonous screeching of crow caws. What do crows come in, packs? murders? It seems unfortunate to be labeled as the latter but I guess when you sweep down on glossed black wings people can't help but associate you with death. Anyhow it was 430am and the sun was starting its early rise and was poking up out over the tops of the shingled roof across from my house the sky was still dark except for the lightened blemish starting to expand and take over like some disease the doctors weren't able to amputate quickly enough.

I watched this through the dull green sheen of my curtains, afraid somehow that if I moved them aside crows would all turn their oblong headbeakcombos towards me and understand that I was awake and imposing myself upon them by listening to their little town hall meeting. It was loud and ridiculous but one deep call of all of them stood out and perhaps this is simply because it was the closer of them and maybe they weren't all just perched in my tree the way i like to imagine it but i was groggy and the whole thing had an otherwordly feel to it and quite frankly i couldn't entirely deal with it. so this leader of the murderpack would make up some inhuman noise and then the squabbling would start amongst the rest of them until order was restored for some short period of time. I found myself wondering whether they were considering the path they might take away from the tree, where they wanted to be next or where the next good source of food might be but honestly i think mostly that any sort of squabling like that is only the result of grumpiness and a general disdain for being up at 430 in the morning. It was hard not to stick my own head out the window and make some sort of similar sound from my own gullet and perhaps if it weren't for the curtain i may have.

four hours later i woke up again and they were all gone. one crow stood in the street below like some keeper of gates or monuments. a lonesome doorman awaiting the next meeting. making sure rituals stay the same. i am moving soon from this house. i will probably miss the next meeting. i would not have had new business anyhow and last comments would have still been summed up by the simple slur of loneliness, inebriation, and lack of sleep. They can do without ths.

Then again. I walked to the zoo last week and perhaps at some point there will be pictures but it seems that over the years my ability to manipulate the internet and its faithful html have diminished to a point where picture hosting sites confound me so maybe in no time soon but however. walking to the zoo in its 3 hour glory gave me a feeling of clearmindedness. i walked it alone but felt good about being that way and realized that somewhere in all of this is just some drive that i am missing. i am going to break records by saying that i will try to start writing again and remain a loyal lover to it but my infidelous(i wonder if i am not using an entirely incorrect word here) nature may lead me to stray.

anyhow. i suppose i need to think of things to really write about. life just doesn't seem enough.