It’s even earlier than usual this morning, and there’s one very happy bird keeping me awake

I think he’s counting, which encouraged me to count right along with him, but I quit long ago, mostly anyway, and although I am up now and genuinely happy he’s happy, it’s getting to the point where I think he should fuck slightly off

I moseyed over to my neighbour’s house last night when I got home from work which isn’t something I ever do because I want to dive into my own house, shoot my bra at Daisy or the cat depending upon who walks away first, talk to the plants, compliment the fish, grab a handful of whatever from the kitchen and get busy or not.

But I had an excess of peaches from the Thursday market, too many ginger cookies which I didn’t think possible until I’d eaten three, and a bunch of plums that were on that excellent, juicy brink of overripeness and needed to be eaten within seconds by someone other than me.

They have a lovely black and white dog who is just dying to herd me right into their personal space and keep me there with his insisting cold nose and very anxious eyes. They said he’s on to me because there are way fewer of his usual playthings this year which are squirrels and it’s because eagles are all over the place so you know where the squirrels are all going.

I’d actually noticed they’d been leaving the bird feeders alone this year but I thought it was out of respect, finally, not due to lack of numbers, and if I had the inclination I’d tie in something clever about that bird who must be into the millions by now in spite of – or I’m beginning to think because of – my very precise profanity, the last issue of which was something like fuck all the way off.

And this is where Daisy and the cat lost it so I’m going to start talking about my bicycle which is where I almost started in the first place until I had a bird about that bird

My bicycle is much nicer than the wicked witch’s bicycle, and Daisy is too wired to hop aboard mine, thank goodness, but there are similarities between her and I (the witch I mean) and it’s in the scowl almost entirely.

The shoes only come in a fairly distant second

I love my bike’s beautiful simplicity, visually anyway, but it’s actually a case of less being less because I sure have to hump that thing going uphill, and on the way back down I have to coast because there’s nothing to pedal against and if I do keep pedalling I look frantic in a Jerry Lewis kind of way which makes parents grab their children and bitchily watch me careen past them as if I have a choice in the matter.

At least the kids seem to see the funny side

One more gear would solve everything. Which got me to thinking about other aspects of my life where I could use another gear, you know, because I’m either sprinting or inert. Stop or go. I’m juggling projects like mad or gathering all kinds of moss.

I need something in between like speed-knitting if there is such a thing, or high-velocity braiding. Or maybe I could give chirp-counting another whirl

I am lazy but also not – it’s weird I know – and I do everything fast, too, including nothing. I’m even fast asleep unless somebody already said that because it sounds familiar.

But I bet nobody ever said this: I even watch a movie fast

Also everything takes too long, including things I adore and enjoy very much like sunsets. Even Tom Waits in concert is too long, and that’s really saying something because I love Tom Waits and would follow him anywhere as long as there’s cheap shots and waltzing.

Does this mean I am impatient? Yes. Unless I’m not

When I’m going for a perfect sentence in a story for instance, I’m so patient it’s not even funny and speaking of, if I spend too much time worrying over the sentences in this blog, I freak the funny right out of them which is why the run-ons and improper conjugations although that sounds like a particularly rude form of adultery but I’ll just let it pass in the spirit of the moment which seems to be going on forever don’t you think?

And unlike all those big bores who complain about the end of summer like it’s something you can catch, and that it’s all downhill from here because the Ex is open and the geese are practicing, I can’t wait for fall.

Give me ripe pears and The Air Show and a long cool breeze any day – and while we’re on the subject of cold comfort and change – can I just say how delicious the melancholy

And how I wish you were here