Looping

I am a man. I grew up with a brother. I went to a private boy's school. My wife, on the other hand, is not a man. Let's not kid ourselves. Men are inferior in almost every way. Let's look at brain function. Multi-task? Huh? What did he say? Point and shoot. Repeat with me, repeat with me, wait, look at that bird! Is that a kinglet?! Where did that hawk go...did you remember the binoculars? Oh, shit, I think I left them in the car--where is the bird book? I know I put it in the pack but it doesn't seem to be here...oh, wait maybe that's it, no that is the notebook I threw in the car...oh, damn, here wait, I'll go back up and get it...it's not here! Oh, wait, yes it is, whoa, did you see that hummingbird? reminds me of the time I went to Costa Rica, and...Hey! would you stop talking and start looking for the...what was I looking for...if this keeps up at this pace I'm gonna need a nap, sooner than later...

There is another side to this song, however. Bored with repetition? How about a bit of the old ultra-violence? Rolling boulders from the peaks of the Rockies to the raging river home, a gravity fed plummet and a couple of lift-offs from a precipice overlooking the river and voila! Uncontrollable mania incomprehensible to most. The effects of the prodigious snow that would not die, have earned a place in the annals of repetitive motion sickness and the sure pleasure of an iceberg crumpling into the sea.