This is a picture of a pigeon freak sitting in Washington Square Park. In case you can't tell, there are several pigeons perched atop his head and shoulders.  Sorry about the shitty picture quality; I took it from far away and behind because I didn't want to alert the freak or his pigeon friends about my presence, lest they take offense and coordinate some kind of attack, like knocking me to the ground and pecking me all over my body and giving me bird herpes. (The medical term is actually "birpes" but I try not to use too much jargon on my blog since pigeon scientists are only like 1/3 of my readership.  LOL, just kidding.  I don't have a readership.)

If life was like Home Alone II, my fear of pigeon freak would slowly dissipate and I would come to see him as a human being with problems and feelings just like my own.  I'd strike up a conversation and learn that he has an estranged wife or daughter he hasn't talked to in a while because she's not down with the whole pigeon freak lifestyle. I would remind him about the importance of family, and he would teach me some dubious life lesson about not being afraid of the mentally ill that seems like bad advice when taken out of context, but is a welcome distraction from my feelings about my abandonment by my negligent parents. But life isn't like Home Alone II, and thank God, because I just realized if Kevin McCallister were a real person he'd have to be one traumatized, fucked up adult, right?  Maybe he'd be a pigeon freak too.

Aw.  Now I kinda want to go talk to him.


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