just fine

I don’t really have a single thing to talk about this morning, other than I was thinking about seagulls earlier. I appreciate seagulls. They have a Mad Hatter keep-on-keepin’-on quality – it’s a food thing – and I have always been delighted by the call of a seagull slipping over a beach, on the roof of a beach-side cottage, even in Portland, Oregon, 100 miles or so from the ocean and beach, where the sound of a chatty gull was nearly always forever present. Something for me about being called home.

My lone tattoo in the world is of a pelican on my left arm. A pelican just sitting in all its mystical grandeur. It could have been a seagull.

Beyond that, pretty much empty-minded here so far today.