The Man in the Green Cap

That's my name to the neighborhood crows. I realized the crows have known me for 12 years. So that's, four? five? generations in this murder that know me. 12 years walking, running, biking the rich white suburban neighborhoods south of my shitbox apartment.

I've told the story before about the honor I received last summer when crows on the ground ignored me totally as I walked past, maybe four feet from them. I ignored them as well, but fortunately I had my sunglasses on so I stole jealous sideways glances. They were aware and nonchalant. Warriors. How can such young things be so canny? (It's like octopus, with a short life, but starts out smart. Epigenetic memory?? Shrug)

I was dealing with mama and babies. The babies are sister-brothers now and letting everybody know when I go for a hike. Their caws echo out over grandma and grandpa land. 

I don't know how I got on their bad side, or if I am.

I had what I am tempted to call an LSD flashback on my walk today. 

All of a sudden I had the distinct impression that all the plants were noticing me, knew who I was. I had never considered the idea that they'd been watching me for twelve years. Anyway, the obvious paranoia turned into a grace of living universe, even the pavement beneath my feet. I experienced joy. Would that I could have prolonged that jewel of time, but tripping is not altering reality.

Item: I had read a science news article how plants might actually have eyes or the equivalent. And then out on my walk I realized what a bunny I've been these past 12 years, thinking I was apex predator. All this time, like a small town, nature knew my business, my boring robot sleepwalk orc ploddings.

Hey, here's some pictures.

Madison's Orrery

Madison imagined the state as world orbiting a strong federal sun. it was shaky for four score and seven and then flung apart. The solution was to increase the gravitational pull of the sun. 

 

Brane and brane! What is Brane?! You are not morg! Your are not imorg! What are you? 

Cigarette Johnny heard a noise on the other side of a wall facing air seven stories up. Who was talking? "Some kind of jiber jabbber" Johnny coughs. $th statge lung cancer but he won't know for months,

"This is my demon. The god I must appease in order to regain my heart, my blood."

I'm surprised how many people haven't seen Big Trouble in Little China. If you haven't seen it, go see it. I'll wait.

Back already? Fun, right? So, that monster on the back of Jack Burton's truck at the end of the movie? Everyone was like, so, a sequel? But a sequel never came and rightly so. It's a cute puppy of a movie but who needs more puppies?

Anyway, if a TV series had spawned. I see two easy spinoffs. Egg Shen, that little shit village sorcerer, ahs adventures on vacation, kind of like Kolchack: The Night Stalker and, like Kolchak, only one season of 20 episodes,

Or. turns out that monster on the back of Jack Burton's truck is now along for the ride because he is Jack's servant. See, according a geas of magic, the monster gets inherited to the murderer of his former master, Lo Pan. Jack Burton does not work as a TV series, but it does as a movie. That monster thing learns to talk so the and Jack are trucker cop team that has to face what?

"China is here, Mr. Burton" Meaning there's black chinese magic in every chinatown across the US. Little shit village sorcerers everywhere coast to ghost. Maybe it could be a TV series. Jack Burton and Slobber. And after a while, a menagerie of lost magical creatures that worked for Lo Pan, and eventually meet up with Jack Burton, Jack of All Monsters.