Saturday, November 2, 2013

The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly --- and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

A very happy November to you all!  I have a trailer to the movie I wrote with Brent Huff, “Black Rose”

Looks pretty cool, I think.  Black Rose will be released in January nationwide (Russia nationwide, that is) in theaters, and will be seen on DVD some time in 2014. My second film to be shot in Moscow, The Boy, goes before cameras in December of this year.  I’ll be heading to Red Square this time around, hoping to see Katherine’s jewels and shoot some groovy vodka. In January, I co-produce a film in Connecticut from my script, A Fatal Obsession, which stars Eric Roberts, Tracy Nelson and yours truly as The Beaver.  Busy 90 days ahead, providing my cirrhosis doesn’t take over and I’m forced to kill some baboon for his liver.

The news continues to demoralize as do politics, so I shall remain shrewdly quiet on such matters.  On a more personal animal note – and it reminded me how kind animals can be to one another (a trait I wish was more apparent with human beings) – I walk by a street corner daily to fetch some fresh gourmet coffee.  Every morning, someone comes over and pours out a ton of bread crumbs in a shallow sand basin for a kit of neighborhood pigeons.  The birds enjoy breakfast, as such, on a daily basis.  Two mornings ago, I recognized a stray bird – actually, a banded pigeon, clearly someone’s property, perhaps just hooking up with the flock on his travels or simply lost and joining in the festivities.

He looked exhausted, and after eating pecking about for a bit (I watched the birds dine for about ten minutes) the guest bird crouched to a resting position and blinked sleepily at the feeding throng around him. A small hen approached this more sophisticated rock dove and began gently picking out mites from the weary traveler and in such a way that could only be construed as altruistic rather than bored abandon at scarfing down a dessert mite. The guest bird continued to blink sleepily and allowed the nuzzling.  It was a very touching sight to behold and made my entire day.

A truck passed suddenly and the group took to the sky, with the guest bird flying off on his own, toward his own personal destiny.  I watched him disappear over the horizon and whispered to myself “safe journey, brave soldier, safe journey.”  We all travel alone in this life, whether we have a mate or not.  Our own singular journey is very private and complex.  We can either traverse the course with some degree of happiness and a sense of adventure, or alternatively, with an inconsolable sense of dread and fear.  I choose the former, for better or for worse, whether there is a Great Creator or not. Life is a blessing. We should endeavor to celebrate it daily and with an inviolate sense of gratitude to whatever gods may be.

Now please glance at Amazon and peruse my many literary offerings.  I need bread for the birds should the old homeless person who feeds them daily suddenly keel over dead and leave his feathered children starving in the streets. 

We can’t have that now, can we?...

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