I gave Lester his spray bath, and he stood their stoicly with his eyes closed. But now that he's dry and the cage is dry, he's dipping his neck and his chest into his water dish and saying "very good, very good." This is the way that most birds bathe when they don't have enough room to actually get in the water. Actually, Lester has submerged himself in his water dish before. It's pretty funny, he's small but he takes up the whole dish. I suppose I should change the name of this blog to Lester blog.
The only art I can handle right now is music. Have been listening to J.S. Bach's unaccompanied cello suites (the recording I have is Yo-Yo Ma, 1982) over and over, and also the Goldberg Variatons. J.S Bach is what I first started playing as a child. His music is comforting and orderly but also often lively and dark. Technically, it's fun to play. I'd always feel so mediative after I'd memorized all of those eigth-note variations on a theme. I'm also still obssesively listening to imogen heap. So yeah, Baroque and really poppy trip-hop.
I love the fact that so many birds go to the arctic in the summer to nest and raise bird-children. I'm going to add this to my list of things to think about when I'm depressed.
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