Wednesday, November 26, 2014

There's a bird in JFK

Ah, to be a rogue bird in an airport.
How did it fly in?
A crack or hole in the wall?
A door left open or hinged for too long?
A pet that broke free from its cage?

In any event the bird becomes liberated from his ordinary world and becomes spectacle because it is in an environment untypical for birds but typical for humans pretending to be birds as we fly from Tampa to Haiti or whatever.  So it goes.

We see the bird and laugh with people we've never met and never will meet about that rogue bird at gate 11 in JFK on a Wednesday.

What does it mean to be this bird?
What is the human correlative to its peculiar situation/adventure/life?

The bird has made a nest in the fluorescents. 
It doesn't really like the speaker yelling in muffled, Inharmonious tones right next to his new home but it likes that it's the star of the airport- constantly getting attention by random passerbys- the true goal in life for any living thing, right?  

...I was gunna tell somebody about the bird- somebody that could set it free- somebody who worked at the airport.  But what if JFK is this birds "free?" What if it's here totally intentionally?  What if the bird is actually john f. Kennedy re-incarnated and he just thinks it's tight we named a really posh airport after him?  

Maybe the birds purpose is to bring people together in a common confusion or surprise.
Maybe the bird is a performance artist.  

If I told someone about the bird and it's adventures, that'd be like a fellow hobbit hearing about Frodo trying to throw the ring into the fire and going to tell a local Orc about Frodo's exact location thus not saving middle earth and letting darkness reign cus you were a stickler to people going rogue.  

 For those of you who that reference makes no sense: I only mean- let the bird fly.  Let it do it's thing.  It's on a journey either of exultation for finally making it to its home, JFK, or having an adventure of panic, trying to find the door it flew in through.  

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