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------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.
----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.
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How does it happen, this moment. I knew a man who took photographs of trees. He’d show them to me like they were pictures of a naked lover. We’d sit at night in a darkened room with only one bright lamp lit and he’d slid them out, one by one. “Look at this one,” he’d whisper, “early spring, Blue Danube. And this? Autumn, Eau Claire Wisconsin.” and so on and so forth. We’d kill a couple bottles of wine while the crickets lustily sang, the depth of the forest growing all around us.
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