out the window yesterday i saw two bluejays hopping on the ground. i have reason to beleive one was a male and the other female, because they seemed to be courting each other. when one would hop towards the other, the other would hop away, and vice versa. there was a steady distance between them because each of them refused to get too close. but you could tell they really loved each other.
i have decided to introduce the term "BLUEJAY" to describe this form of courting, enacted by so many men and women across the globe. for example, one could say:
"I wanted to talk to Max last night but we just BLUEJAYED all night." or...
"Anna and Justin were such BLUEJAYS on friday night! its like, go home together already!" or....
"I played BLUEJAYS with Travis for a year and it backfired when we found out we both really wanted each other."
back in santa cruz, it seems that there are bluejays hopping everywhere. returning to this place is like a fucking conservatory. in a great way. i mean like chirping and fluttering everywhere. so much life and song.
the grass here is green and tall, the roses are blooming yellow on their vines.
last night, cooking in the vast commune kitchen, slicing fresh tomatoes, i thought: there is no place more consistently beautiful than this.
my mother sits at the breakfast table and looks out the window at "her birds" that are now dependent on the seed she provides for them. my father flutters around in his glasses with his coffee and alternates between painting and musing. there is a steady, predictable ebb and flow of this house, a natural pulse.
no one fucks with each other here.
like those jays outside, pecking at each other, fighting for food.