as i type this a…

by dishpantheism

as i type this a chain gang is hacking up the underbrush along the river bottom. i suppose it isn't fair to call them a chain gang really since they aren't chained together. but they are prisoners. their orange jumpsuits say so. they haven't been hacking away long but already i can see the murky green water of the river flowing past between the willows and black cottonwoods. they mulch every branch they drag up from the bottom. i wanted to make bent wood chairs from the green willow. drat. the nettles are all trampled flat. the blackberry is being attacked with gloved hands and chainsaws. i wonder how the jays' nest is doing. they usually nest quite high up so they're probably fine. but the noise of the saws and chippers must be stressful. i hope the inmates leave the giant bay wood log alone. i like to sit on it. one of the prisoners has a pole saw and is taking the low branches of pine down. the sap is dripping out. the air is filled with a horrible dusty haze. the spectacle is both unpleasant and sort of exciting. i'm also oddly comforted by the sound of saws. i'm used to hearing those. the sound of my parents cutting wood.

i was lent a copy of tirant lo blanc! yays! i have been wanting to read that for ages! here is a song in catalan to celebrate. 
09 Din Din
Zap Mama
wellidy. i go.

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