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contours provocations
journal - 2001-0427 - fri 2300 I Encounter Creatures Great and Small; I Watch a Blond There was a gray dove (or pigeon) sitting in my driveway this morning as I headed for the street to hunt for the newspaper among the crumpled magnolia leaves. I must have startled it for within a few seconds it took flight and started making some cooing sounds. When I first saw it, I was sure it was a pigeon, but when it cooed, I was less certain. Then I tried to think if doves and pigeons differ in the sounds they make. And quickly realized I had no idea. Although I watch for the pigeons nesting along the underpass of the Interstate, I'm never near enough to hear calls. Plus the traffic noise is extremely loud in that area. So I don't know what sounds they produce. As I approached work, I saw a squirrel racing toward the street to my right, and I hit the horn. I'm guessing the sound alerted it, for it stopped, stood up, then raced back in the other direction. I always try to avoid hitting them if I can. Why squirrels always want to race across the road without looking is beyond me. Not the brightest move in the world. My day was full of encounters with creatures great and small. This afternoon, as I was typing away at my little keyboard, a tiny spider suddenly plopped in from of me. It was at most an inch long. It jumped off the edge of my desk but stopped after about six inches as though it had gotten stuck. I looked for the silk but was unable to see or feel it. I slid a piece of paper under it, and it began to craw sideways. I tried to use the paper to release the spider onto the floor, but my hand must have caught the thread because it seemed stuck again. Finally I gently moved my hand, and the wee beastie crept onto the carpet and then disappeared. In the morning, I had another brush with a winged creature. But this bird was of the musical variety. Ralph Vaughan Williams' "A Lark Ascending." I was listening to a classical station, and they responded to a request by playing the piece. It is one of my favorites. I have no thought as to the origin or background or meaning of the work. But when I hear it, I always imagine a solitary lark spirling upward in the wind. And I know that its journey will be successful. At lunch, I darted into XXXX and almost stumbled when I caught sight of the beautiful man on duty at the door. His jelled blond hair was closely cropped on the sides but slightly longer on the top. His face was open and friendly without being overpowering. He was of medium height and build. My guess would be 5'10 and 150, maybe. I headed for the bar, as usual, and quickly decided to sit facing toward the door, so I could watch him from time to time. He appeared efficient and quick, for the incoming patrons never were kept waiting for more than a few minutes. He never reminded me of anyone. I was never able to hear his voice. And I certainly was never able to catch his eye. But I did have an enjoyable time watching him. One of life's small, unrequited pleasures. Next time I visit, I need to make a suggestion to the management that the waiters need to wear tight, satin pants and see-through shirts. I wonder if there's a gay version of Hooters. PAX!
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