fiction  aint so fictional    breed in reality

                                              religion is “a preoccupation with the next world clearly signals as inability to cope credibly with this one.” pretty fuckin succinct

Thank you Broken Angels

a scrub jay flew down onto the porchrailing yapping hauwhauw hauw coarsely maybe a rough night talking too much arguing too much smoking cigars drinking rotgut little sleep 

it hopped along the railing and stopped adjacent to the enameled plate he fed kibble to his outdoor cat off 

                                                                                                               there it dropped heavily wouldnt think a bird would sound heavy onto the porch and between cries hauwhauw it gobbled at the few remaining kibble

he didnt move a muscle remained froze  standing not four meters off  

amazed he watched

it kept a bright eye on him too

then the jay snagged the last kibble and leaptflew up to the railing again and with its mouth full like a mute used on a trumpet trombone it hauwhauwed at him before taking wing rising effortlessly into a live oak overhanging the graveled and brittle spentleaf drive

Hmm 

               made him question birdbrained Muthafuckers adaptable 

and in his mindseye he saw again when the jay eyeballed him at the plate its bright eye he saw its reptilian black mirth its ancestral something  some thing descendant murderously fending for itself during the bloody Jurassic

no religion required

religion would have killed it

1608,  Sunday,  14  7. 19

1008,  Twosday,  23  7. 19