I met Pinkie the clown yesterday afternoon on the corner of Mission and 23rd in front of the Walgreen’s. She was making balloon dogs and balloon flowers and balloon swords complete with a wrap around holster. Impressive what some people can do with a small piece of orange latex.
But the day started off even stranger. I strolled half asleep into the bathroom yesterday morning and heard a strange flapping sound. It sounded desperate and birdlike and CLOSE. I peered into my office and there were two doves trying to find their way out of the narrow slit of a window they miraculously flew through in the first place. It was like a slumber party with David Copperfield gone terribly wrong.
I ran down the hall to get Matt and shouted at him asleep in bed, “There are birds in my office!” He shot out of bed, startled, confused (sorry honey!) “There’s what?!”
“Birds in my office!”
He somehow corralled them back through the window and a big, scared smear of bird poop slid down the glass in their wake. Sorry birdies.
The whole scene felt strangely symbolic. Any ideas out there?
The day ended with a dream that I was writing a check over and over to a man named Horse Peppercorn. Maybe it was because I read that Gwyneth Paltrow’s new baby is named Apple.
Things are getting very surreal around here.
My friend Mark is hilarious. Read his essay The Epitaph of the Crank Call.