I worked on a small canvas and kept things simple. While I was painting, an otter popped up in front of me and looked me over before it moved on. I guess it didn't think much of the painting. An hour later it popped up again, heading back the way it came. It took one quick look and then pulled its head underwater. Thanks, I said. Thanks a lot.
12 comments:
Dudes, you are not going to believe this, but I ran that image through a processor designed to capture paranormal activity and it turns out that otter is a fucking poet! Check it!
http://bookninja.com/thelecture.jpg
He's lecturing B! Now we know why she's so damn good. Communing with nature, my ass!
Okay, that's just...odd.
As someone who's walked in the trees with B, I believe it. Bird watching she says--counting birds she says-- now I know why she carries those binoculars.
Haha, oddly delicious! Nice twist, GM.
I reckon the otter was just checking to see how the painting was coming along. Otherwise, why would it have bothered coming back? Of course, it might have been checking whether you had any spare fish.
Good grief. Now every time I see an otter you know what I'll be thinking. Thanks, G. Thanks a lot.
I've already imagined a speech bubble. Yikes! Inside it reads:
"My country has been an immense tree on the summit of a sunswept hill from which I plucked hundreds of poems or waited confidently under its boughs for them to fall like heavy fruit into my open lap."
("Foreword," The Collected Poems of Irving Layton, 1971)
Taken from here.
Of course in my case they fall and bounce off my head.
Ba-dum-bump...ouch!
Maybe if your head wasn't so...big.
Actually, when all is said and done, you have to be more miss than hit to be one of Irving's, so perhaps this otter was just having us on.
I'll have you know my head is just the right size, say, for the sasqatch.
Post a Comment