Day Four In My Guest-Blogging For The Unicorn
I have a new habit of eating in the little below-street plaza at the foot of the Hancock Building. There's a really cheap and great Italian deli there, and I'm digging the juxtaposition between the Hancock (physically massive monument to engineering and commmerce) and myself (small in many ways; poor). There are little birds that hang around there. I lived my first eighteen years on a patch of land surrounded by actual Nature, but I don't even know what kind of birds they are. Little, brown, with short little beaks. If I was pressed I would say "finches". Maybe finches.
Yesterday one of them hopped up onto my table while I was finishing my sandwich (fresh mozzarella, basil, roasted red peppers on ciabatta). It's near-tame, like most of the birds that hand around there, from the generosity of lunching retail slaves and tourists. It not was not only ok with sharing a close physical proximity to a much larger animal (myself), but was aggressively intent on eating part of my sandwich, barely flinching when I made futile aggressive gestures meant to establish possession over my foodsource (fresh mozzarella, basil, roasted red peppers on ciabatta).
The little bird was dishevelled, entirely sure of its entitlement to live off of someone else, and charming enough to almost pull it off. If it had a hangover I would say it was the perfect metaphor for myself.
I realize that my past few entries have been way over the top in terms of the sort of gentle melancholic musings that have been given a bad name by Livejournalists who put "Belle And Sebastian" and "drinking tea" in their interests. But I really can be amusing at times. Really.