Published by admin on 24 Aug 2008
Sunset Junction is this weekend, which marks the fourth anniversary of the beginning of the Louie time period. I’m not going to the street festival this year because, a - I am kind of against large crowds at the moment and b - the bands always kind of sound like shit anyway, c - I’ve already seen The Black Keys (with Louie) and d - live music isn’t really my thing, throw in a bunch of people who don’t live on the East Side but think it’s ‘cool’ and I’m out. The festival always marks the end of summer for me, so that’s… I was going to say good, but it’s not the word I’m looking for, seasonal? Reassuring? I guess I always like summer to end. As much as I love the tank tops I’m always kind of happy for t-shirts. (haha! I live in So-Cal, I don’t have to wear fall clothes!)
Last week I spent a night at my place for a change, and when I walked in I was overpowered by the stench of rot. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t the dog, there was a possibility it was either the garbage or the dead goldfish that had been stewing in it’s bowl for a week and a half, or that I really was dead, and my corpse was so rotten that my ghost could smell it.
Instead of doing the normal thing and taking out the trash and getting rid of the dead gold fish, I went to bed with the windows open and a sheet over my face. I woke up periodically throughout the night thinking to myself, “Wow, it really still smells in here.” Which led to anxiety dreams of how I could possibly manage to take out the trash and empty the gold fish bowl. Here’s how my dreams would go. I would be standing in the kitchen, tying up the bag of garbage from under the sink, I would take that down to the trash. Then I would scoop out the dead gold fish, but not be able to put it in the trash because I had already taken the trash out. And so I would stand there with a dead gold fish dripping dead gold fish juice on the floor.
I’m not really sure what that all means, but in the morning I took out the trash, then I scooped out the dead gold fish, and was standing there holding the dead gold fish in the net trying to put a new bag in the garbage can while it dripped dead gold fish juice on the floor and I got really irritated with myself about how my dream warned me about this very situation and I just did it anyway. I am really dumb sometimes. Also, listen to your dreams!
And then I ran over a pigeon. It did that stupid suicidal thing where it just didn’t fly away so I just ran right over it. I mean, there are a lot of things I will swerve for, pigeons aren’t fucking one of them. I looked into my rear view mirror and I didn’t see it, but I had definitely heard a slight thwack when it went under. So I was a little confused about where the fuck the stupid thing went. But two seconds later I forgot about it. Because pigeons are not something I worry about. I could give a fuck.
As I was walking Lula that night, I saw a pigeon carcass all the way on the grass. It was in the same area of my pigeon hit and run so I assumed it was the same dumbass bird. But this pigeon had no head. So I either decapitated the pigeon and it ‘chicken-with-its-head-cut-off-ed’ all the way to the grass, or I stunned the pigeon and one of the local pain-in-my-ass dogs that run lose even though they have owners picked it up and ate it’s head off. I’m not sure which story I’d rather believe.
The pigeon’s body remains unclaimed.