Bird Calls

 It's pretty weird how so much of our identity is linked to just the sound of our names; sort of like bird calls.

Whatever the bird is it will likely have a song. The term "song" is used loosely in the case of the crow and the black caped night heron, but the same can be said of the band The Ramones, I guess.

The point being that someone will point to some radom person and say: "That's Stuart Smith!" The sound is supposed to mean something to you.

I often sit on my couch in my apartment and imagine being visited by certain of the most random figures I can conjure up.

I envision my front door opening and; in they walk.

It's kind of a skill to imagine whomever would be the most bizarre personage to see sitting in one of my extra chairs.

Their own discomfiture over being in my apartment always factors into the equation. I would want to get Elton John something to drink, at least, for example...

And, I would fumble for the right ice-breaking comment to put Charles Dickens at ease, or maybe give Gale Sayers a firm handshake, in the fantasy...

But, I think one of my propensities would be to keep repeating their name over and again in my head. That's friggin Judy Rankin, the first women's U.S. Open golf champion!!!

Sitting in my fold out chair...jeez, what kind of music should I put on..?

But I think it would be hard for the person's name to not be echoing through my brain.

Once you know a person's name, you know who they are. "I didn't know who the hell the guy was; but it turns out he's Stuart Smith," type of thing.

"No, not that Stuart Smith, another one..."

"Oh."

I think the person's name, like the call of whatever bird they are would repeat in my mind, as in: "I can't believe Donny Osmond is using my bathroom right now..."

I guess one would have to sometimes imagine being visited by certain of the most random people imaginable to understand....

I think I'm about to walk the mile to the Winn Dixie grocery store, where I will let the muse guide me to what I should eat. I might bring a divining rod in there and put myself in a trance and flow aimlessly through the aisles with my eyes closed. 

I might start blogging again; this wasn't that bad. I can always move the entire content over to another platform that isn't going to shadow ban it because I suggested that Biden was a bumbling fool, back in 2020.

I guess that comment, unlike the subject of it; aged well.