#zombiebzed

This weekend, I’ve volunteered to take Vee’s scout troop into the woods for some fire-building, tent-pitching, smores-melting adventures. I don’t know what possessed me to volunteer; it’s only just hitting me how insane it will be puttering in the woods with a bunch of seven to ten year-old girls. Edgar’s coming with me as semi-non-parental reinforcement. I’ve had to agree to let him bring his pet raven, Wes (apparently the bird requires his own tent, but I’m not going to even fight that one). Edgar also says he won’t fish or teach any wilderness navigation. He will, however, gladly offer up a ghost story or five.

So, I told Vee today that for as long as I’ve been in B-more, I’ve never eaten crabs. She said this was unacceptable and immediately asked her mom if she could get some. She got us a whole bushel, which I was no help in eating. I dunno. I’m not into the idea of hitting beady-eyed things with a mallot before cracking it open and eating its insides--are they looking at me??? (Vee says you’re not supposed to bludgeon the crabs when you open them, but still).  

She doesn’t seem to get how veganism works. Somehow she thinks she can get me to eat a crab eventually. It’s her turn to make our snacks tomorrow... I’m gonna give my fruit plate a very thorough inspection, that’s all I can say.

   Let’s get the obvious out of the way: I am a zombie. “Undead,” “sort of dead,” whatever else you want to call it. Tasteless as it may be, I prefer, “zombie,” purely for the alliteration in Zombie Zed. If you’re wondering what the B is for, stop guessing because the answer is not that interesting. My mandible will occasionally unhinge and my eyeball will occasionally pop out, but that’s about as zombie as it gets with me. I hate lumbering down long hallways, moaning.  Brains in any presentation are vile (even with a nice Chianti). Give me a decent vegan lasagna any day.

   Apart from all of this, I am what you’d call an amateur naturalist. You know, like Darwin. I study living and inanimate things, make note of them in this journal. I am partial to Richard Small’s work, versus Darwin’s. If you don’t know who he is, you should know him. But if you can’t find a naturalist named Richard Small anywhere, it’s alright, you don’t have to know. Just know he’s the best.

    I “live” in Baltimore, Maryland. It’s pretty great living within walking distance from my favorite writer, Mr. Edgar Allan Poe. We meet every Wednesday evening to write poetry; he’s been giving me feedback on my meter. 

Oh, and my best friend is this girl called Vee (alive). There’s a book about the two of us coming out this Halloween.