A pigeon flew into my head this morning. I haven't told anyone yet. It was like someone dropped a small stack of newspapers onto my head from above. It made a thud. I looked up and a pigeon flew away. No one else saw it. I don't mean that it flew into my head, like it's still in there. This isn't magic realism. This is something that happened, and I didn't want the day to go by without mentioning it to someone. Is it good luck? Bad luck? Or do we live in a morally neutral universe where objects occasionally bump into each other at random, like a cosmic pinball machine with no score being kept and possibly not even a player? Anyway, I didn't want to get into all that. I just wanted to note that a pigeon flew into my head this morning.
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CASUAL PIMPIN': TWELVE TIGHT TUNES
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