Aviary Flatulence.

2024.07.14

Good morning, that wonderful way.

Aviary flatulence.

What if a bird's song is nothing more than the act of passing gas?

Yep.
A bird fart.

How sonorously doth the American Robin blow wind!
How harmonically the Song Sparrows doth let them rip!

And Good Morning again.

Now the bloat is gone.
We commence with the spiritually uplifting bouts of keys taps.

It's all about the beginning.
Writers slave their whole novel through to make sure the start is right.

We have to get your attention.

A trustworthy narrator is somebody's car you want to get into.

We're warned never to take candy or rides from strangers, yet that's what the choice to continue reading is.

Living on the Edge, as it were.

I was killed by The Edge.
Well, an Edge.
A Ford SUV.
Died for a bit and seizured back up.

A few decades sooner and I'd have lost my left leg.
It's bionic now.
Bone singed around a nine-inch alloy shaft.

Been a couple of years.
Works quite well.
No real ghost pains,
So to speak.

I was read as +he +Ghos+ before the murder.

I ought to thank those that passed out the work for giving me a literal spot to die and come back to.

A Steven or a Wynn probably doesn't sit back up.

But +he Ghos+?

If it's a literal world,

That's just further proof.

It's the looks.

Looks in the street from certain folks.

Easy to read people when you're an author.

It's kinda what we do.

Read life and write it down.

There's a certain way someone who knows you looks at you.

Now, if you've never seen the person before it's worth a question mark.

If you haven't seen hundreds of people looking at you like that, something is up.

So, you check in with paranoia, nope, not there.
Check in with crazy, nope, still surprisingly, not here.

Then, you check the mirror.
Sure, you're a nice-looking chap, but that's cause for another type of look.

What's remarkable about you?
All you do is write all day.

Well, you have been doing that in public.
And there is a camera in just about everyone's pocket.

So, alloy shaft bone singes and cell phone and security cameras saved my life.

"Oh, free press without The Press!" you think.
So, you make very certain to find where the cameras are and sit right under them.

They might as well get the full show.

Might as well see the stream of conscious daydreams, the figuring out of pieces to plot, the daily concerns of a dreamer long observing the world, able to read signs and see what human nature might do in the cases of leaders, blow hard braggarts, old self-obsessed game players.

Once you watch a game long enough you learn the rules.
Once you watch people long enough you see the patterns of greed, of compassion, and the mob's response to each.

After a while people are an easy read.

Enjoy the screenshot pics of dragons enjoying the hidden profit from the Aroma of a cup of Joe.

S.J. Wynn
+he Ghos+