Observation Station

• Many Central American habitations, constructed with slanted corrugated metal roofing that doesn't contact or close the walls seperating rooms, invite you to share experiences with your neighbors. Like flatulence and sex. It's tempting to press one's perversity onto those victim-of-circumstance (aka construction) neighbors, aiming questions at the walltop gaps between rooms: "Hey, I'm having trouble hearing. Could you be a little louder?" Or, "Hey, can I watch?"
• There are more chickens clucking across Central America than blades of grass bowing, or leaves blowing, in the breeze. As such, it was only a matter of time before I decoded chicken behavior. Have you ever watched chickens walk? The way their heads jab forward and jerk back with every step? Like a bully in your face trying to get you to flinch, over and over and over. Chickens, armless and Napoleon-complexed, might well be walking around spitting serious attitude, each and every bucking headsnap corresponding to harmless threats sparking in their soon-to-be-snapped-off skulls, strings of taunting WHAT!? WHAT!? WHAT!?s, STEP STEP STEPs, or BRING IT BRING IT BRING ITs.

Then there's the post-transcribing realization that all of these cute obersavations are a lot funnier in the moment, under the influence. Ahh, well...