Tuesday, May 25, 2004
Dreams
Do dreams mean anything? I went through a period a few years back when I dreamed of being executed. Usually by gassing but sometime by lethal injection. The dreams always ended before the actual moment, by the way. I sometimes arrived for the appointment on my own (like a job interview). I'm glad those stopped. No fun.
What about this one from last night?
My truelove and I are watching a field. The field is cultivated with small plants. Maybe young corn that is only a couple of feet high. There are two white cats in the field. The cats are addicted to opium and are wandering in the field but floating a few inches off the ground as they wander so you can see their tails and heads above the plants. A pretty picture.
Comments welcome.
What about this one from last night?
My truelove and I are watching a field. The field is cultivated with small plants. Maybe young corn that is only a couple of feet high. There are two white cats in the field. The cats are addicted to opium and are wandering in the field but floating a few inches off the ground as they wander so you can see their tails and heads above the plants. A pretty picture.
Comments welcome.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
Chicken Killin'
When I was a tot we lived three blocks from the square in Marshall. My brother had a henhouse and a small chicken yard in the corner of our lot. We got our eggs from there.
At some point (I must have been four or five), it was decided that the chickens had to go. The day of the big event there were many extra people around. The usual help was there along with various black, rural friends and neighbors that knew the drill.
A large fire was built and the bottom half of an oil drum was filled with water and put on the fire. It took hours for the water to boil, during which time many stories were told. When the water boiled the slaughter began.
I am not sure if the chickens were beheaded or not. What I remember is the Jemima-esque women swinging the chickens around their heads in the yard. They were either wringing the necks or maybe had them by the feet. I do recollect a lot of blood so maybe they had no heads. The chickens were repeatedly dipped in the boiling water to loosen the feathers for plucking.
For a five-year-old it was just a fabulous blur of fire, white feathers, blood, steam, soot, smoke, and howling black faces for what seemed like hours. Wow!
At some point (I must have been four or five), it was decided that the chickens had to go. The day of the big event there were many extra people around. The usual help was there along with various black, rural friends and neighbors that knew the drill.
A large fire was built and the bottom half of an oil drum was filled with water and put on the fire. It took hours for the water to boil, during which time many stories were told. When the water boiled the slaughter began.
I am not sure if the chickens were beheaded or not. What I remember is the Jemima-esque women swinging the chickens around their heads in the yard. They were either wringing the necks or maybe had them by the feet. I do recollect a lot of blood so maybe they had no heads. The chickens were repeatedly dipped in the boiling water to loosen the feathers for plucking.
For a five-year-old it was just a fabulous blur of fire, white feathers, blood, steam, soot, smoke, and howling black faces for what seemed like hours. Wow!
