Sunday, June 27, 2004

PLOP

I suppose I had a good run. I mean, I had been living in NYC for about a decade, and this had never happened to me before.

It began, as such things do, somewhere up there--out of the literal blue, it fell at extreme velocity, until it hit target with a plop and a barely discernible splatter.

A pigeon had pooped in the great above, but it had long flown away by the time its wretched refuse was expelled from the kingdom of avian body, into the atmosphere, a rapidly accelerating gift to the world that became a smear on my arm.

Attempts to remove the greyish-white matter from my forearm were valiant and varied: scraping my arm against a building on West End Avenue, ripping off a piece of a street lamp flyer for a "man with a van," using someone's discarded deli napkin.

The more I tried, the more the excrement became part of my epidermis. To the world, it looked like a small smudge, a pieces of shmutz easily removed, once home, with vanilla-scented anti-bacterial soap. But I knew it was a metaphor for an internal life, externalized and personified.

A bright side to being a pigeon toilet: this is supposed to mean good luck is on the way. I'm looking forward to it. Because otherwise, it is merely literal: a crock of shit.

4 Comments:

At 11:26 PM, June 27, 2004, Blogger annabel lee said...

Yikes. Well, I do hope the good luck comes to you quickly.

 
At 8:43 AM, June 28, 2004, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm laughing out loud at your descriptions ("being a pigeon toilet," etc.) while reading this!

 
At 2:01 PM, June 28, 2004, Blogger Michael said...

Oh, well, poop happens.

 
At 1:13 PM, June 29, 2004, Blogger PepGiraffe said...

We are practically the same person. Well, in no ways except for being highly attractive and that I was also a - how you say - pigeon WC on Monday. I hope it's good for hair. :( And I was on my way to work. AND I forgot to buy a lottery ticket that day. How long does the luck last, do you know?

 

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My Urban Kvetch: PLOP

Sunday, June 27, 2004

PLOP

I suppose I had a good run. I mean, I had been living in NYC for about a decade, and this had never happened to me before.

It began, as such things do, somewhere up there--out of the literal blue, it fell at extreme velocity, until it hit target with a plop and a barely discernible splatter.

A pigeon had pooped in the great above, but it had long flown away by the time its wretched refuse was expelled from the kingdom of avian body, into the atmosphere, a rapidly accelerating gift to the world that became a smear on my arm.

Attempts to remove the greyish-white matter from my forearm were valiant and varied: scraping my arm against a building on West End Avenue, ripping off a piece of a street lamp flyer for a "man with a van," using someone's discarded deli napkin.

The more I tried, the more the excrement became part of my epidermis. To the world, it looked like a small smudge, a pieces of shmutz easily removed, once home, with vanilla-scented anti-bacterial soap. But I knew it was a metaphor for an internal life, externalized and personified.

A bright side to being a pigeon toilet: this is supposed to mean good luck is on the way. I'm looking forward to it. Because otherwise, it is merely literal: a crock of shit.

4 Comments:

At 11:26 PM, June 27, 2004, Blogger annabel lee said...

Yikes. Well, I do hope the good luck comes to you quickly.

 
At 8:43 AM, June 28, 2004, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm laughing out loud at your descriptions ("being a pigeon toilet," etc.) while reading this!

 
At 2:01 PM, June 28, 2004, Blogger Michael said...

Oh, well, poop happens.

 
At 1:13 PM, June 29, 2004, Blogger PepGiraffe said...

We are practically the same person. Well, in no ways except for being highly attractive and that I was also a - how you say - pigeon WC on Monday. I hope it's good for hair. :( And I was on my way to work. AND I forgot to buy a lottery ticket that day. How long does the luck last, do you know?

 

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