On a completely different note…I’d like to introduce Karma, Confidence and Courage; three renegade chickens that happen to live in our backyard.
I promised myself I wouldn’t apologise for this video but I have to. I am, quite obviously, in the very early stages of learning how to shoot video. My goal is to work on the editing and fine-tuning and how to add sound and wind it all down properly.
Probably most people would learn that stuff BEFORE they posted the video. But then, they would likely be people without instant gratification issues…or impulsivity issues, or you know..issues in general. For me? I’d rather just get it done.
This is why I think it’s kind of strange that I love the editing and revising and rewriting part of writing, considering I usually just want to get most things flung out into the world as fast as possible. There’s something very satisfying about polishing a story before sending it to an editor, and then, once receiving their comments, carrying on with the next phase of revisions.
Unfortuately, I can also get stuck in sanding and polishing mode so that I fail to add any fresh writing to the piece.
Not that I’m doing that right now with my memoir. No, nothing like that has been happening for the last ten days or so. No way.
Wow – how surreal. I played the awesomeness of chickens overtop my itunes, which was playing a spookily perfect ‘Te Vaka – Manatu’. See if you can find it and play them both together. I feel like I dropped acid. You do know that German (wacko but brilliant) film Director has his own strange love affair with chickens:
“Look into the eyes of a chicken and you will see real stupidity. It is a kind of bottomless stupidity, a fiendish stupidity. They are the most horrifying, cannibalistic and nightmarish creatures in the world.”
This can of course be paraphrased and retold with a harsh Deutsch accent as “To look into zee eye of zeh chicken is to experience zee heart of evil.”
By the way, I see you have a typewriter in the garden. Are the chickens starting on their memoirs, then? What’s that like, to be called a chicken, by a chicken?
Get going on that memoir, I can’t wait.
OMG Chicken by Chicken it is. Look out Anne Lamott! Her book is SO last year. They really are rather fiendishly stupid but then they do these rather interesting semi-smart things. Go figure.
I don’t get it — are these your chickens? Are you keeping chickens now?
In other words, can I call you Chicken Lady?
You may indeed call me the Chicken Lady. Though Kevin isn’t partial to Chicken Man for some reason. Those girls squawk out three eggs a day. Wanna come over for an omelette?