Last night, I was worried my brain was going to rot.  On the way to a lecture, I accidentally stepped on a bird.  I was wearing sandals.  I felt a little tickle.  The concrete was not made of feathers.  I wasn’t the first to step on the bird.  I shrugged and thought, “My writing will probably improve if they have to amputate my leg.”  I’m pretty sure John Fante had diabetes and after they cut off his leg he replaced it with a fictional one.

The lecture was by a man named Noah who spoke about computers writing novels.  After the lecture there was cheese for sale.  No one paid for it.  I grabbed handfuls and didn’t even bother peeling off the wax skin.  Someone next to me said, “In a few years universities will chain small robots to word processors and wait until the robot accidentally writes a novel.”  I ate more cheese.  The man continued to talk.  I asked the man for a ride home.  He shrugged and said, “Universities are looking forward to the day when MFA students are computers.”

When I got home I found a dead bird on my steps.  There are three stray cats that live outside my apartment.  I named them all Kevin.  One of the Kevins is orange and doesn’t really like me.  I think spotted Kevin left me the bird.  It’s always saying “hello” and, “pet me,” and, “shit doesn’t get anymore real than this.”