JOURNAL ENTRY FROM APRIL 15TH, 2007:
I'm becoming Bernadette Merrifield.
I'm insane with excitement when I see a fox run in front of my car. Did I hit it? Did it get away? Oh, God, I hope it isn't broken. I hope I didn't break it. I'm happy in the shade and in the paint-peel, red country shed, millions of miles from the idea of skyscrapers and turbo engines. Out of all the planets, I've always considered Neptune to be the most forgettable. I like pretending to be very knowledgeable about certain animals that I've only ever seen once, on a half hour-long television special that I watched three-and-a-half years ago. I always get goose pimpled before I touch a snake, but after the initial contact, I want to crouch there, pinching it, forever. I've denounced the nature vs. culture debate. You're no > I, mister so-and-so. My snake an' I are doin' fine. We certainly haven't forgotten the eighth planet from the sun, that's for damn sure. Go on an' leave us be. We ain't hurtin' nobody, no how.
Yours! Honest To Goodness!,
Bernadette Merrifield &
Here's a picture I drew. It isn't very good, my finger was bleeding, but I hope you like it anyway.
I feel like the first televised human, distorted and unrecognizable, ailing from a lack of technology. When will I learn not to broadcast the message before the public is ready to receive it? On Friday morning, the 13th, around 11:00 AM in Washington, Missouri, the holy trinity was making its way into town. Mind you, I make up the third leg of this religious triad. Upon passing a pond, we spot a heron. "It's a good day for birds!" says The Father. The Son is quietly looking out the window. The Holy Ghost is in awe of the bird.
For the first time since Wednesday evening, I'll have to fall asleep in an empty room. I am dirt poor and tracing the rim of obscurity with the tips of my fingers, but I've been blessed with the grit and gusto to keep track of every unique correlation I observe. I had four stones in my pocket. Now they are arranged on a table. Isn't that nice?
But, Lord, what a show! There were blinking spheres, everywhere. I must have looked like a little shrunken head, bobbing, from that sprawling stage. My face was lit by powerful bulbs - red, white, and blue. I've never understood why some people crook their mouth in one direction or another when they're pronouncing certain words. Whichever direction it's crooked, that mouth can really turn a tune. I achieved two of many goals. Thank you, Mr. Melody.
I think I'll sit and try and untwist my guts. Let it be known that there's so much more that I'd rather be doing.