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crapped on again

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-eight years and a million words

Toronto, 2018.03.07

I discovered splat of bird crap on my shoe; my sixteenth crapping upon by our flying friends. This time it was dry and came right off thankfully. I wonder what manner of flying poop vector it had been. Something small, but not as tiny as a sparrow, I think.

My entire history of being blessed by birds is here.

rand()m quote

Illusions commend themselves to us because they save us pain and allow us to enjoy pleasure instead. We must therefore accept it without complaint when they sometimes collide with a bit of reality against which they are dashed to pieces.

—Sigmund Freud