Oh Blue Bird!

The Daily Circus is a newspaper; I thought everyone knew that. I had grown reading the daily circus (later in my life I learn that only our family preferred The Daily Circus to The Daily Gooseberry)

I write in shame that we live in a world that has little knowledge of a quality organ of information, I’m not saying anything about The Daily Gooseberry; I just say that it doesn’t deserve to be the leading daily I would even accept The Weekly Vulture which had a special column on the changing geology of the earth but not the Daily Gooseberry, something in the Gooseberry made me feel sick.

I made my way to The Society on one Sunday afternoon, I carried with me the anguish and sense of failure I had had always on Sunday afternoons, especially when I read the Sunday Gooseberry, they had beaten me to one more news break. Not that my editor bothered much about deadlines we were still covering Watergate but there was always a personal loss and my fellow reporters always got the best of me, they even called leading celebrities by their nickname, I could saw now that with certain degree of frankness that I was quite jealous of these people.

The Society had always existed, and it always changed. Terry Idle was sitting on a wooden bench in one of the corners. Terry Idle was the only one whom I knew in the society, the poet was sitting looking up at the sky and then he began to sing

“Oh how high you fly blue bird
How about a small word
It would as white as curd
What do you say blue bird?”

There was no bird of course even if there had been it would cared much, but I thought it was quite a good poem, I could appreciate it even in one of sad moods.
Words come naturally to Idle, words just flow into his head out of his mouth like a…like a gush of industrial waste into the river. No I don’t think that was a good imagery.

“Terry why don’t you send these things to the press they might put out collections of poems?”

He noticed me for the first time that evening

“Oh how are you mister scribe?
You may have heard of the bribe
It’s not good for our tribe
And I do not like what you prescribe”

Terry published only when he thought that it was utmost necessary for instance for the next meal; and surprisingly he would get his money out of nowhere, seeing my distress Terry went into one his creative outbursts which I will write in the days to come, maybe I am quite dim or the whole concept of intellect itself is very relative.

Satyeki