Tuesday, September 2, 2008


I've been thinking about death a lot lately. Not as a verb but a concept. Maybe it's because my life is in a major transitional stage (i.e. girlfriend moving abroad, moving apartments and studios, starting new jobs, growing a larger beard, et al), or maybe it's because I saw a dying bird yesterday which was later devoured half-alive by ants? Hmmm.. ..what do you think? "Life is strange" as philosopher/singer/poet James Douglas Morrison once wisely said. Everything is fleeting and change sometimes comes in bundles. Or in an onslaught of ants. You decide.



We originally perched the bird in a prefab nest so it could be 'comfortable' as it was dying. Chris, my mother's husband, pulled out his trusty pellet rifle and we all pleaded him to spare the coup de grace. He told us we were all retarded and that the bird would die a slow and painful death just so we could enjoy this communion with nature.
But still the idea of him aiming his huge rifle at the throat of this tiny bird seemed unbearable. Later that night, when I found the bird, being eaten alive by ants I felt retarded indeed. The lesson? Sometimes you have blow a little bird's head off so it can die quickly in peace instead of selfishly giving yourself a Kodak moment with a wild animal—which usually stays as far away as possible from humans—and for good reason. Either we want to eat them, cage them, or get a snapshot with them while they're writing in pain. Oh man.

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