The society of chickens

As I wrote to Bill Hartmann this morning, life would be vastly easier for me if I stuck to circles where I looked like the smart one. This would not be difficult to arrange but it is not what I want. I could think about the society of chickens as deeply as I can think about the Universe. I’m not sure anymore that there is a material difference.

I should go into the forest and write poetry. I’d say “go into the forest and paint”, but it’s too hard to get art supplies in the goddamned forest.

woods and undergrowth, van gogh

Van Gogh

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