I started telling people I was a falconer.
Not even in a “game” way; I just got so sick of the fucking question. I just spent sixty hours “doing” what I fucking “do” and now I’m trying to enjoy a beer in my hairsbreadth of free time and you’re making me think about the merciless glare of the computer screen; my cruel, sniveling boss; the phone constantly ringing with bullshit every two god damn seconds so that even in my dreams I hear the bleating of that ringer like the call of some horrible demon bird. It’s the first question boring people ask every single motherfucking conversation and it’s rude. So I gave them a bullshit outlandish answer as a way of telling them to fuck off for even asking.
But the girls always believed me. They would get excited and intrigued and ask engaged follow up questions, way more than they would about my actual job, which is as a weenie Hollywood “development executive.” Even though my real job is supposed to get you laid (it does not). So I kept padding it out. I am genuinely interested in falcons. In raptors at large. Nothing delights me more than seeing a kestrel alight on a fence post. Than seeing a mating pair of goshawks performing aerial acrobatics together. Where I’m from seeing a red tailed hawk waiting on the phone lines for a squirrel to get run over is a red letter day so the embarrassment of riches w/r/t falcons, hawks, owls and eagles here in SoCal has been a great boon to me. I would regale the girls with knowledge about these birds. Continue reading →
Tags: falconry, sufjan stevens
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