I carry around with me a little book bag I got at the dollar store. It's olive green and I've had my mom paint Sabrot on it along with the little owl. The Sabrot was a magazine that I had a while ago to publish some of my stories, poetry, and other writings. It was fun, but too much work and expensive for me to keep up on my own. Tonight, while I was reading some biography books, (Traveling Mercies and Blue Like Jazz (yes, I was reading two of them at the same time (not really at the same time, but a chapter in this one and then a chapter in that one))) I came to the realization that I'm the Sabrot. It's like a made up name for me. It housed my thoughts, both the ones that made sense and the ones that don't. My life is too much work and too expensive to keep up on my own, especially with all the projects and ideas that I get. The owl is a good symbol for me. I like to stay up all night and sleep all day. I refer to my bed as my nest (I really do, since it is on the floor and I surround myself with pillows at night so I know where the edge of the bed is when I'm sleeping and rolling.) I don't make noise when I fly. I cough up the bones of the rats I eat in little pellets... okay, so that's not completely true. I only like to sleep for half of the day, but it's the first half.
Now that my discovery is in writing, it doesn't seem as important to me as it was in the bookstore when I discovered it. That's kind of a let down... anyway, I guess I'll just get back to life.
Setting Sun - Sun Setting in SoCal...I forget where exactly.....
1 week ago