Oozlum Bird

The fanciful bird that flies backward. "Keeps the dust out of its eyes." One aspect of not being able to go on-line (I can access my AOL, so I can SEND) is that I still spend a great deal of time with my nose in a book. Finally found Oozlum in my Brewer's Dictionary but not before getting sidetracked several times. Orrery, for instance, which is one of those complex mechanisms that show the movements of celestial bodies. That Momus was the god of ridicule, that Mountain Dew was Scotch moonshine, that nap was from the Old English hnappian 'to sleep lightly'. Which might or might not explain the French napp (a blanket) used in English to mean the flow of water over a damn or spillway. And Black Dell, bless her hard-drive, actually had an audible flush when I discovered that Wild Bill Hickok's famous mare was Black Nell. A very cool and rainy day and I was up early to find a tee-shirt that had sleeves and to shut a couple of windows, decided to stay up because the extra cigaret that I had rolled in case I got a phone call hadn't been smoked and there was a wee dram still in my whiskey glass, and I couldn't remember where I had read a reference to the Oozlum Bird. I knew it had to be a book that was out, because I hadn't put any away, so that narrowed it down to about fifty. I never did find it, though I think it was Anthony Burgess. A fine vegetable and mushroom hash on toast, with a fired egg on top. The sky is graying toward light. A completely wet day. I harvest enough rainwater to take a bath and fill my supply. I did my laundry, finally, and everything is clean, dry, and folded, little mercies. B called and the extended family, all of the daughters, would be down at his place for dinner. And Jenny and Scott, and Ronnie and Cindy and probably a dozen kids. I went down, and it was great to see everyone, but goddamn it was loud. Wonderful food, pork loins done in a maple syrup reduction, Ronnie brought a kale and rice casserole that was excellent. World class tomatoes. A very bright bunch of people, and it was fun, interesting to be included in such a family gathering. I slipped out early, to get up the hill before dark, and I was struck, when I got home, with how quiet my solitary life had become. Listening to the Cello Suites, later, with just the blue screen, sipping whiskey and smoking a cigaret, reflecting on circumstance, I felt enormously happy just to be alive. It's supposed to be sixty degrees tonight, so I leave on my socks, previously frozen digits are subject to refreezing and my feet are sensitive, and that night in the tent, which I will never forget, is only marred by missing toes. Still, I wonder about flying backward.