Above: the April 27 page spread from my 2009 fake journal. I used Ziller Acrylic ink with a dip pen and Schmincke pan watercolors. Click on the image to view an enlargement.
One of the most serendipitous experiences of this year's fake journal for me was the way birds presented themselves at the most opportune time. Just when I needed a "literary" symbol up pops a crow, after weeks of not seeing any. And so it goes…
The text for this page spread follows.
Verso:
"One crow sorrow…"Recto:
09.04.27
7:00 p.m.
Shocked. Unprepared. I thought I would never see another crow—decimated in 2002. Suddenly here was one on the crumbling river road wall where I sat waiting for turkeys, hoping, with Lou who felt sorry for me. He came out with me tonight out of pity, but he keeps his distance. When the crow flew off I found a dead bunny on the other side of the wall. At least Lou can verify the sighting.
This morning the doctor tested my eyes. He had to be here for Chuck so everyone's physicals were moved up. I needed new glasses—happily a high priority—my eyes belong to the state.
This afternoon I sat with Chuck. He's worse if that is even possible. It doesn't matter it's not transferable through contact—no one but the meds will see him—no one but me. We chat, when he isn't sleeping restlessly. And I started reading him "Great Expectations," which seemed a happier choice than "Moby Dick" the only other book I could find.
"Never apologize for your genetics," he said to me.
Lacking a superstitious nature the crow would only amuse Chuck.
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