Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I feel like babbling today. Why? I don't know. Sometimes you just feel like babbling with no purpose or goal. Forget spelling and composition and making a point or working an angle or doing your homework. I'm talking about pure babble.

Take free-range chicken for example. Example of what? HellifIknow. But it's something to think about, free range chicken. These are chickens that actually run around and strut and crow in the chicken yard before we kill them and eat them. They get exercise. My brother-in-law takes pride in serving free-range chicken. He's a doctor and works for the NIH, so you would think he knew what he was talking about. But it seems to me that if you were going to eat a chicken that you would want a more sedentary chicken, one that has spent her life in a cage getting fed without having to scratch. Wouldn't they be more tender? Sort of like Kobe cows that the Japanese raise and never let them out of the stall and give them massages every day and let them drink beer to fatten them up?

I wish somebody would put me in a cage and feed me beer and massage me. I would even let them eat me if they wanted.

Free-range chicken.... less fat to deal with, I imagine.... and all those growth-enhancing drugs they pump into those corporate chickens (chicken steroids?)....

LRod when I was livin out in the country we had free range chickens, as far as i was concerned it meant that if i hit one of with one of my golf balls and he fell out, then we could eat em, also those free range eggs are awesome, i'm gonna go up there manana and get me 2 12 packs......

mnaz, I used to have some friends who would buy big sacks of chicken feed. The stuff had amphetamine sulfate in it. They would soak it out and extract it and sell it on the street. Talk about free-range.

Wired, have you ever eaten turkey eggs? They are about as big as a baseball and they have three yolks sometimes, always two. I used to buy them in Austin for three cents apiece. Just one was an omlette. Richer than chicken eggs.

never had one LRod, now i'm on a mission , gonna try & find some when i head to delaware manana..............

l-rod, i did a documentary on cock fighting, the dude was so proud of his free range cocks and there mates...nice guy, i'm not sure i beleived half of his readsnons for why cock fighting should be legal but whatever...anyways, he gave us some free range chickien eggs. fucking heaven lightingrod, fucking heaven.

i love babling, i could talk all day esp if its about music.

No babble just rabble today

thinking about process theology and processed meats
eating Spam and Vienna sausage
I had a vision I was in a car wreck
twised metal the smell of gasoline
shreded flesh and shattered bone
pain beyond feeling
oh why lord why
and then a whoosh
as the gas ignited
and answered all my questions
***********************************
I love this poem

Chicken, by Kim Addonizio


Why did she cross the road?

She should have stayed in her little cage,

shat upon by her sisters above her,

shitting on her sisters below her.



God knows how she got out.

God sees everything. God has his eye

on the chicken, making her break

like the convict headed for the river,



sloshing his way through the water

to throw off the dogs, raising

his arms to starlight to praise

whatever isn't locked in a cell.



He'll make it to a farmhouse

where kind people will feed him.

They'll bring green beans and bread,

home-brewed hops. They'll bring



the chicken the farmer found

by the side of the road, dazed

from being clipped by a pickup,

whose delicate brain stem



he snapped with a twist,

whose asshole his wife stuffed

with rosemary and a lemon wedge.

Everything has its fate,



but only God knows what that is.

The spirit of the chicken will enter the convict.

Sometimes, in his boxy apartment,

listening to his neighbors above him,



annoying his neighbors below him,

he'll feel a terrible hunger

and an overwhelming urge

to jab his head at the television over and ove

that is a cool poem.

I love it too KD, I found it in a magazine I bought for a quater in a thrft shop...

Going to read everything by her I can find. A new joy discovered in her. I must have been editing while you replied, macabre mood today, sorry