Vests, early birds and Oscar on acid

17^th June 7.30 am Esdelle Street

I’m out back in the yard. The chirps of the morning birds are competing with the warbling of a Thom Yorke solo project in my headphones. The air is tired and cool on my skin. I am not naked. I am wearing a vest and shorts. I am barefoot. I’ve only just got into vests. Not specifically this one this morning that I have just gotten into. I mean I’ve never really had them. I like them. A fly lands on my bare foot. I’m not dead yet mate. I’m just being still and my feet probably stink from not wearing my socks in my shoes on the way out here.

A blackbird with a worm in its mouth sits two fences away. It glances at me while keeping an eye on the ground for some more worms. Greedy. Or good planning. Of course it’s the early bird innit. Stocking up on worms for the rest of the day. Maybe there is only one early bird. Nobody realises it’s a specific bird. The early bird. Not one of many.

A pile of weeds takes up one side of the yard decomposing quietly. Two white flowers poke out like eyes turned to the side at me. A purpley red stalk curves downwards underneath them giving the impression of a sad face. The rest of the weeds cascading down like dripping green skin. I imagine this is what Oscar the Grouch would look like if I was on acid. Not that I’ve ever done acid or would want to. But if I did I probably would want to watch Sesame Street. 

NOTE : I do these "morning pages" quite sporadically. It's another thing from the Artist's Way course / book that's meant to open you up creatively - but I'm fairly sure I used to do it before I read that anyway. It's like talking to yourself but writing it down. I suppose that's what all writing is really. I'm not planning to put all of them on here (mainly because that will affect what I write) but maybe now and then if they are publishable and won't get me locked up.