Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young are singing "Our House" in the background.
Laurel and I are talking about the flowers out in the garden.
The windows are open; a cool breeze drifts through out the house. A male cat
lies in the open window dreaming and farting. OH MANNN!!
I get up and move into the bathroom.
The chickens at a local farm are raising a stink about the confined spaces they have to endure.
Lawyers and judges are trying to comply with the laws about the chickens, while holding their glasses
up on the ends of their noses.
The local folks are holding their noses and ignoring the smell while walking out of the local grocery.
Our nose is Gods gift to man. Our nose is a gift for smelling something good or bad.
Time has led to the conclusion that when something smells bad we bury it.
This is very old common sense. One part of our five senses.
There is more on the mind of this man, trivial but bothersome.
The world revolves around greed and power.
The roads we travel on we assume are for the good of mankind.
I realize that they are for the military to travel quickly on.
They are not for the elderly women pushing her cart of treasures at the edge of the road.
They are not for the mother that pushes her stroller with child along the gravel edge of the highway.
They are not for the slow moving black buggy and brown horse.
They are not for the group that rides their bicycles along the edges.
They are not for the jogger with their white band and watch.
It annoys me that whoever is in charge of our roads does not have time to create a path for these other vehicles.
The dead-end road to why leads to no money in our local confers for these improvements.
August 26, 2001 Sunday:
It's almost 5 am and Natasha is stirring. I am up, I have been up for a awhile; I am up and about thinking about the Hot August Blues Festival and Tyson Chickens. I am stirring while everyone sleeps. My body and mind is eager to write what I feel. Laurel does not want me to say anything about the chickens that are raising a stink in Marion. I've said it before and I'll say it again. When something smells a fowl (dead), we normally bury it. The city of Marion wants Tyson to bury the smell, but not under a pile of red tape, last week Laurel and I were coming out of the local video store, we smelled an awful stench. Like most folks in this town our mind is not thinking about fowl smells in our neighborhoods. Our minds are elsewhere, thinking about our daily chores and ourselves for that day. When we smelled the fowl stench Laurel and I looked puzzled, we looked off in the direction of the smell and realized what we smelled. Now we knew why the people in this neighborhood were crying "a foul, a fowl"! Well I am part of this community and I say bury the dead and its smell. We as a community have sent our city and county representatives to court asking Tyson and B&G Poultry to bury the fowl smell so we may all smell the roses.
May 28, 2001bongaAugust 26, 2001
October 31, 2001bongaJanuary 23, 2002bongaJanuary 31, 2002
April 15, 2001bongaApril 20, 2001
May 12, 2001bongaMay 14, 2001
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May28, 2001bongaMay 28, 2001
June 3, 2001bongaJune 3, 2001
June 3, 2001 bongaJune 4, 2001
Words & Graphics by Tomas