I Killed A Hummingbird...

I killed a humming bird. I was 13 years old. I had my bee-bee hand gun and shooting oranges off of trees like "Angel Eyes" Clint Eastwood...well...kinda like it. No Spaghetti Western sound effects or Confederate gold to be gotten. Then it came, a ruby throated hummingbird right in front of my orange tree. I slowly raised my gun, aimed with my left eye, squeezed the trigger...and POW! Or rather "pip".


This was the slow-motion portion of the shot. I hit the hummingbird square in the throat. It's neck flopped down sideways and fell dead immediately.


This image runs through my mind to this day. I have never forgotten one of the worst feelings of my life. I say I'm sorry to that little bird every time I think about this. I ask for forgiveness. I was a stupid, stupid child. Killing a life needlessly, without purpose except to see if I could do it.


I am not a natural born killer. Yet, I have taken part in many deaths for my hunger. Someone else doing the dirty work. Not I. I try to think about the animal before I eat it. I respectfully acknowledge it's life for my life.


I am not a vegetarian. I know that something must die for me to live. That is the price of life. You can place more value on an animal's life than a plant, but life is life in my book.


The important thing is to remember and to be humbled by the life that was lost to maintain my own...to be grateful. The inexcusable is needless death like my poor hummingbird. I will never ever forget...






Sent from the Black Forest.

Sent from the Black Forest...

Hungry Tigers Unleashed...

I submit that it's not what you do, but what you think that counts. Scary prospect I know...considering what we think at times, but it might be a more honest road. A road fraught with fear, pain, animal urges, as well as hope, love, and a need to be loved...what we really are, not what we want to be.


I think that to deny existence of our most inner terrible, demented, fucked-up thoughts is a poison. We poison ourselves everyday. If we can acknowledge to ourselves that these thoughts, no matter how embarrassing they are, we have a real chance of confronting them. A real chance for introspection and maybe a resolve. To finally let go some of these mental tigers, let them run free and take their place in the nature of ourselves. There, they might die, or make new cubs. In any case...an answer.


To know oneself is to acknowledge every dark thought and as well as our shiny-sparkly-bright ones. I say let it begin! Maybe we'll find out we are not the person we thought we were, maybe we'll find out we're exactly the person we thought we were, more surely a little of both...and that's okay. The sooner we get real with ourselves, the sooner we can fix, heal, and embrace within.


I don't know about you, but my tigers are foaming-frenzy-famished-tigers. Only time will tell if I shoot them or let them live..."Born free! As free as the wind blows! As free as the grass grows! Born free to follow your heart!"

Sent from the Black Forest...

Ursa...

It's Fall. The falling. The smell of burning and last breaths. A linger of life before the big quiet. Soon I will turn unto myself. I sleep to dream. I wait.

Sent from the Black Forest...

I'm a Lousy God...

I'm a lousy God. I usually have dreams with people I've never met in real life, but they will re-occur in different dreams I have later. After a while I forget about them. Time goes by. Then I'll be sitting in the car and I'll remember them. What we did and maybe talked about. When things are a memory they seem like they really happened. I mean...that's how we live our lives, going though the now and the memory of the past. What happens when our memories get mixed up from what happened in reality and in our dreams? Are they any less real? What affects us, becomes real. We make it real. In a sense, we create worlds in our reality. I've created people in my dreams. I think about them. Maybe more than people who live in my "real" life. Do they exist? I think they do....at least in some misty swirling way. They have become real to me. I created them. I created them and I rarely think of them. I'm a forgetful shitty God, who doesn't give them hardly anytime to live. I don't listen nor answer a single prayer of theirs. I hope they will forgive me for bringing them to life and only letting them live in the occasional short moments of my dreams...forgive me. I love you.

Sent from the Black Forest...

Talking With My Inner Dialog...

Outer: I need to go to bank. I gotta get ready for my Nashville trip. Shooting my Atom Orr video for my song "Friends Fur Life".

Inner: I wanna rob the bank. I've always wanted to rob a bank. Not in the daylight, but at night. Stealthily. In the shadows. Breaking and entering. Safe cracking. Diamond heists. Oooh! Yea diamond heists! Better than a bank. Gotta find a good fence though...

Outer: It'll be great to see my friends. I'm only there a week. It's gonna go by fast.

Inner: Whiskey! Lots of whiskey! So much I'll wake up in my own piss on the wooden floor of the bar. No...wait...I'll wake up in a seedy motel room 80 miles outside of town. I'll have no memory of how I got there, but there is a blue flower in my hand. What kind of flower is it? I haven't a clue...

Outer: Scouting out locations, thinking of some fun camera angles...

Inner: Prince's Hot Chicken Shack! Extra Hot! So hot my ass will flame out for 3 days. Pickles. White Bread. Potato salad. A slice of Chess pie. I wonder if that old black lady is still there? She was kinda sweet on me. *smile*

Outer: Green...Trees. Humidity. I love Tennessee. Home.

Inner: Going to clubs made from old laundromat's and basements. Late night diners and soul food that will smoke and cure you into a walking salted ham. Bonfires, more whiskey, weed and psychedelics...

Outer: Maybe I can get some writing and reading in. I wanna read some of works by Harlan Elliot and Richard Brautigan.

Inner: Yea! Write something. None of this hamby-bamby political correctness. Better to be banned than to be accepted I always say. Though I'm not too out there really. I'm not into rape, incest, little children, or have homosexual tendencies. I'd fuck all female ethnicities in the cunt or ass, but still...nothing too shocking...hmmm...even kinda blasé... *frown*

Outer: I'm so glad no one can hear my inner dialog...

Sent from the Black Forest...