not a blog post

So I met a bird in a submarine. Needless to say, this looks really strange and of course people started to tell me to write about it in my blog.

Now, this would be the most predictable thing to do.

I could say it’s name was Nemo (it’s not), and describe how Nemo explores new worlds he never knew and maybe talk about a funny encounter with a starfish or a whale or whatever sea animal, post a picture of what I was writing about (the bird in the submarine), and win an award for the dullest idea in a blog. Instant fame.

Trying to avoid to be that boring, I asked Ulisses (that’s his real name) about some adventure he might have had in his submarine. Now Ulisses is not much of a storyteller, all he said was how nice it was to get away from the constant twittering and how he disliked sea animals and that worms weren’t what they used to be in the old days. He also suggested I could write a post about him in my blog. Nice idea, I said and – for a second or two – considered to post a chicken soup recipe instead.

So I decided to write a story about a yeti wandering around the streets of some middlesized european town on a midsummer night trying to buy crushed ice with an expired credit card and illustrate it with a picture of Ulisses in his vessel. This seemed like a less predictable approach, but the yeti was offended (I had to promise to write about him later on, no credit cards involved), and so was Ulisses, who claimed he wasn’t inferior to a yeti and accused me of hating birds out of mammalocentrism (whatever that means).

I give up.
Here is the picture:

a bird in a submarine!

an Interview

 - Mr. G., welcome to our forest. Is there anything you want to tell us first?
Oh please don’t call me Mister. You have to know I am still a child, despite my size. Just call me Junior. I want to say I am very happy to be here, you have lots of free space. I like that.

- Okay Junior, some people around here wonder why you brought cars and houses with you. Usually we try to avoid human stuff …
 Oh these are just toys. I hope you don’t mind? I’m a kid, I like to play.

- Well actually you deserted half of the forest »playing« … I heard you are japanese?
  Not exactly japanese, I was raised in the ocean nearby. And I know what you are hinting at. I must say, I’m terribly sorry, I have nothing to do with what happened and … I don’t wanna talk about it.

- I didn’t …
Honestly I had no idea, they knew they were taking a risk, didn’t they? It’s an earthquake area anyway …

 - well…
 … All I did was … I didn’t do anything … why is everybody blaming me, I am just a little kid, I came to your forest ‘cause I heard its nice and peaceful and you keep asking me these questions and…

-…  er …
… and how was I to know in the first place? Just because I am so small you think you can accuse me but a child has to have the right to play and its not fair the way everybody treats me I’m always doing everything wrong like mama said why do I have to break everything I touch but just ask her about Tokyo, you‘ll see what happens and then I come here and I am not a bad kid all I am is a bit larger than most of you is that a crime did you never destroy a city or something things happen and it’s so unfair …

- take a handkerchief.
Thank you!

Uuh. Is that nuclear snot?

Comes off with plutonium soap.

just playing

leadership

He didn‘t have such an easy life. It‘s not like people usually think … wallowing in the mud, eating roots, these easy peasy kind of things. Actually it was hard work. Just keeping the sounder together was a task of it‘s own. His folks were not exactly classic examples for discipline, not only the kids. And there was quite a lot of competition going on, like at any workplace: everybody wants to be the boss. Lots of ambition, no discipline. And the girls – sugar and spice. Need I say more?
Then there were dogs to watch out for (The days of wolves were over. Regrettably, he thought, because even though they were dangerous, at least they had their standards), tourists, hunters, cars, you name it … lots of responsibility.
And for eating roots: you gotta find them first to eat them. Not as simple as it sounds. Wallowing in the mud was okay.
So after a long day’s work, there was nothing better than a drink at the pub down the muddy road. Here he could relax and be nothing but a simple boar with a beer at the bar.

it isn‘t that easy being a boar

nice and friendly

Okay, there‘s nothing wrong with trying to be nice and friendly. At least it‘s better than walking around with a grumpy face and shouting at people with no apparent reason. Basically this is what we all thought around here, I guess. It is pretty much common sense to think like that.
Until that little critter came to our wood.
Not that he did anything wrong or offensive (that would have made it a lot easier), he seems to be a nice person if you stand being around him long enough. However, it’s hard to imagine anybody who could.

We couldn’t complain, but there is something about him that drives everybody nuts. If only he could stop smiling for a minute...

thoughts of a migrating bird

Travelling. It sounds so exciting, but really … after a while you’ve had it. Commuting like this can be exhausting. After all this time you know every single tree and rooftop along the way and all you want is your own cartwheel with a cosy nest of your own.
Does that sound boring? It‘s just that migrating can be such a drag. You’re never quite there, always on your way, you know?
I reckon, after a while one feels the itch to move on again. We’re not easily satisfied with what we’ve got, are we?
Oh, the wind is changing. One more drink and I‘ll be back on the cloud!
See you.

See you. Have a nice air or whatever, I just wish you a good trip. Beware of the turkeys!
Turkeys? What a stupid thing to say, I thought.

have a nice trip

what it‘s like

Well, she said, you know …
I have this friend, or at least this person I know.
She seems to have a little … erm … don’t want to call it a problem, problem is not so nice, a kind of an issue I‘d say, is that a better word, issue?
Anyway this personIknow, hum, she did a »thing«, it just happened to her, i guess she can‘t help it.
It‘s kind of embarrassing when that happens, very not nice thing to do with all people watching and so on, very embarassing.
I imagine it to be embarassing, that is. Talking of if one was in that position like this personIknow.

I listened. She was talking anyway, no need to ask questions.

So I‘m just asking, she went on, theoretically, you know, if this »thing« happened to someone, what would I do? Just interested, of course, I don’t want you to think … well you could think that maybe I myself …

She fell silent for a while.

You don’t know what it‘s like to be a bird.

I handed her a tissue.

a very not nice thing