I get really nervous if pigeons are flying around before shows. I can't stand them after one once flew in through my bathroom window and went for me while I was having a wee. That was enough. I think pigeons target me.
I love the pigeons. I just raise them, period, and feed them. Pigeons go away, and they always come back. You get a touch of freedom, and then they are free to come back to you. I love the idea of pigeons.
I'll sit in the park and feed the pigeons for a while.' We don't have pigeons.' Then I'll feed the pterodactyls.
Hip," I murmur, remembering last night, how I lost it completely in a stall at Nell's---my mouth foaming, all I could think about were insects, lots of insects, and running at pigeons, foaming at the mouth and running at pigeons.
You don't always get lucky enough to have songs that can breathe and shift meaning. But every once in a while you open up a window and something passes through. It's really nice for me when I discover those songs in my catalogue. It's one of the reasons I try not to get too specific about what my songs mean.
Hovering over me was the Chihuly chandelier. Chihulys are the pigeons of Seattle. They're everywhere and even if they don't get in your way, you can't help but build up a kind of antipathy toward them.
I have been feeding pigeons, thousands of them for years. But there was one, a beautiful bird, pure white with light grey tips on its wings; that one was different. It was a female. I had only to wish and call her and she would come flying to me. I loved that pigeon as a man loves a women, and she loved me. As long as I had her, there was a purpose to my life.
I am probably in the sky, flying with the fish, or maybe in the ocean, swimming with the pigeons. See, my world is different.
I kept my arms around Joi and my face buried deep in her hair while I waited for Peter Pan to slip through the window. I thought I needed him to tell me what I should do. But he never showed up. He left me alone with a girl who smelled of jasmine and cocoa butter. And before I fell asleep, I finally realized that was more than enough.
I was once caught climbing out of the classroom window while bunking a class. I lied that I had to go to the bathroom and the exit was crowded. The principal believed me.
You can watch actors create their illusions, but if you don't see where they get the pigeons from, you don't really know how they're doing it.
I just started playing around different clubs, and I got a good reputation around New York City of having good timing, a good right foot, and I was "funky", "soulful", and all that stuff. Then I ran into this group, the Pigeons.
They said, 'If we put you in first class with Brian, will you do it?' So I flew after not having flown in eight years. If there's one person who doesn't like flying as much as me, it's Brian.
My books happen. They tend to blast in from nowhere, seize me by the throat, and howl 'Write me! Write me now!' But they rarely stand still long enough for me to see what and who they are, before they hurtle away again. And so I spend a lot of time running after them, like a thrown rider after an escaped horse, saying 'Wait for me! Wait for me!' and waving my notebook in the air.
A large proportion of mankind, like pigeons and partridges, on reaching maturity, having passed through a period of playfulness or promiscuity, establish what they hope and expect will be a permanent and fertile mating relationship. This we call marriage.
I've been noble since they took you to the hospital," he said through his teeth. "I'm tired of it. I don't eat, I don't sleep, I can't even work. I remember your voice moaning in my ear like the cry of the damned while I was having you," he bit off, bending to her mouth. "You couldn't get enough of me. You couldn't get close enough to me. Your face when I fulfilled you....I ache every time I think about it.
I only speak a little pigeon French. Just enough to get by with the little French pigeons.