This seagull had a restaurant take out box he was walking around with at the Civic Center Plaza. He had it in his beak, strutting around with his chest puffed out, like “I got me some take out. It’s good too – part of a falafel, or maybe nacho remnants.” He was so proud of his styrofoam box, some other seagulls starting following him like the pied piper.
In other news, unrelated to seagull take out, my GP sent me for an EKG. Of course, my heart acted perfectly normal during the EKG. My GP thinks the heart problems were the result of anxiety from the week long migraine. Anxiety. I don’t know what to make of that. You can have anxiety even if you don’t know it? How does that work? My body just does whatever and then, I have to pick up the pieces, something like this:
Me: Oh Body, your room is a disaster area. Can you come and pick this mess up?
Body: (no answer)
Me: Body, I know you hear me.
Body: F U
And so, I waste a bunch of time picking up after my own body and then, my GP tells me something akin to I’m a bad parent. He does it in a nice way, but essentially I can’t control my own body. It’s running amok, driving the family car up to the mini-mart late at night, buying booze, and drinking it while driving and texting. I don’t know how to stop my body from its aberrant behavior. I have tried. I need an intervention with my own body.