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I was staring at the unrecognizable beak bite on the base of my thumb. Unrecognizable, that is, unless you were aware that there is an angry dead pigeon flying around with a destroyed beak. I would be ecstatic to go see a doctor and show him my wound, and, just for fun, tell him I don't know what it is from, and have him say "Hmmm, yes, I've seen this before, looks like a bite from a resurrected pigeon who destroyed his beak by flying headfirst into a window…"
There wasn't a lot of blood trickling out of the bite-mark, but the sensation was extremely hot and painful. It felt better if I pressed my thumb against my index finger, closing the mangled wound, but then my hand looked even more ridiculous. Almost every time I am writing, I will come to a halt, and get completely frustrated as I stare at the 2 or 3 words I manage to get out before this 6 car pileup happens in my brain. And its almost habitual that, while I am thinking, I draw eyes on both sides of my left index finger knuckle and use my thumb as a mouth, and I converse with my hand. The back and forth conversations that I have with my hand ( who I have actually named Patrick) are simply to get my brain unstuck, and to create dialog that I may be able to adapt when I'm writing. I can't say that it's the best method of stimulation, but Patrick has helped me fill over 400 journals cover to cover. Patrick was there when I created MANDA, and now, because of the gaping gnarled gash that was presented to me by the pigeon, when I make my hand into a loose fist, and press my thumb against my index finger, it looks like Patrick has herpes.
I decided I needed to at least wash out Patrick's mouth with some Bactine or Neosporin or SOMETHING, so turned to head to the bathroom sink. But I didn't even finish a 90 degree turn before I heard a second thump, this one a lot less intense, and coming from the kitchen table, where the box was nested.
The box was now on its side. It had been knocked over. But where did the THUMP sound come from? The box itself was very light. Whatever was in it couldn't weigh more than a pound or so. If the box fell over, there was no way it would make that much of a sound. But when I went to set the box up on its proper side, it was extremely heavy now. And, to make things even more frightening, once the box was right side up and staring at me again, its sides started slowly expanding in and out subtly. The box was BREATHING now…
5:44 PM
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