more (censored) roadkill art.

a young buck lie dead on the side of the road. i noted the gaping wound and the position of his body. he had been struck from behind by a vehicle and had stumbled, perhaps trying to run, but his legs failed beneath him and he crumpled to the ground in a ditch. his lifeless, mangled body told a story. a short, sad, painful story. i know he was a young buck because of this: once he had been scavened and decomposed down to nothing but scattered bones and stubbornly clinging, peeling, black skin, i took the skull. i kept the skull and still have the skull, and the skull has small, developing pedicles that have never held a pair of antlers. his pelt, before his carcass was torn apart and decayed, was dappled with fading white spots over his shoulders. and he was fairly small, doe-sized. his teeth are in good shape... but i digress, whatever! i'll introduce him properly in another blog with detailed pictures of his skull, along with a proper age estimate.

inspiration? i can answer with a question: how do you feel about the fact that we, all of us, are each a microcosm— a planet, a universe, containing billions of microscopic organisms?

without certain bacteria
crawlingwrigglingburrowingswimmingslitheringbreedingfuckingmultiplyingfeedingeatingshittingdying
inside and on our bodies, we would not, bodily, be able to function. there is no death without life. there is no life without death. we are disgusting and destined to die. the death of a universe. if i have a choice, if i have a say in it, i will let there be a big bang. i will be like this deer and my dead body will be host to bacteria, maggots, larvae, worms, beetles, flies, life, life that feeds on death, and through them i will live, and through the earth i will live, and through the trees and their acorns i will live, and through the mice and the squirrels that eat those acorns and gnaw my bones, and through the slugs and flies that eat their shit i will live, and and through the birds that eat the slugs and flies i will live, and i will live in their song, and i will live on the wind, and the wind will carry me on and on forever. may my body, my bones, never be found by humans amen. may the animals scatter them over the land and drop them in the water and bury them in the ground amen. if you must make my body pretty or hide it in a box or burn it to ash just so that you feel comfortable saying goodbye, i deny you that goodbye. i reject your fear and denial of the one ultimate truth: memento mori.

i love squirrels. i always have loved squirrels. as a kid i'd imagine myself among them. as one of them. flying through the tree tops, racing up and down the trunks, romping, barking, collecting, chasing, how fun! they're like the foxes of the rodent world. quick, smart, expressive. omnivorous.

i take a lot of pictures of dead squirrels because there are a lot of dead squirrels around here. same with deer, which i'm also fond of. simple as. i admire death because i treasure life. i don't celebrate. i just see, and i see beyond the meat. a life extinguished is not a life unlived. a short life is not a meaningless one.

○ a single breath stirs the air more than no breath.
○ when every day is a fight for survival, one year is a life well lived.
○ what can we do about it?
○ that was not a rhetorical question.