Tag Archives: comic books

I forgot I had a “blog” / remembering Spring’s influenza

Tree swallow among the sumach, gazing into the foggy ethereals!


I was poorly already, but when the word came down that one of our rarer warblers was eating bugs in Etobicoke, it became essential for me to spend 5 hours in and around the dirt, snitching along the creek, hoping for pop-ups, easy light, and pictorial sweetwindows. Anyhow, the Kentucky Warbler is an elegant little softy but he is a demon also, and I consider him at least partially responsible for the influenza which ensconced me like a blanket of cold and leggy spiders! But feisty mulchers, worry not: I am on the mend, am no longer agued, and will live to taxidermize and photograph the good Spring warblers yet again!


Another pleasant look at the simple but dressy Kentucky Warbler, seen some days ago in southeast Etobicoke. Then I got influenza and hid in my apartment, but now it’s time to go snitching again.
P.S. The lamebrained composition was necessary because of problems to the left and right.


In one of my Batman comics there was an advertisement for, I think, the Vic20. Pictured was a boy my age, sitting on his bed, his sneakers on a small carpet near the bedroom door. The room had wooden floors and a cozy dignity. The boy was skinny, and he had straight brown hair.
One day in late August, my mother and I went shopping at Miracle Mart and when we came home I asked her: “Can I keep my shoes upstairs from now on?”
“Where upstairs?”
“In my room.”
“Why do you want your shoes in your room?”
I didn’t answer.
My mother said: “Shoes belong downstairs, on the family shoe rug.”
Then I said: “I’ll still take my shoes off at the front of the house, then I’ll carry them upstairs and put them on a towel near the door of my room.”
“No,” my mother said, “I don’t want you making a mess. Shoes belong downstairs.”
“But it’s my birthday soon!”
“Yes, and I’ll make any cake you want,” she said, “and also a special supper.”

But I didn’t listen. For a few days or maybe a week I snuck my sneakers upstairs to my room and put them on a towel by the door. I would sit on my bed and look at my sneakers by the door but still I wasn’t happy. Pretty soon I abandoned my plan and moved on to other things.
I didn’t know then that in actuality I was pining to be a different sort of boy altogether.
Anyhow, these days I feel much better, but I must tell you that I haven’t worn sneakers in more than 20 years!

p.s. Eastern Kingbird among the sumach, and then later the tansies