Uncle Bill Burroughs argued that cats weren’t welcomed as pets by the Egyptians due to their mousing in the granaries, but rather because of a void for psychic companions and familiars that they filled. This, he said, holds true into the present. Beyond this, I think, there is the immediacy of the cat. They are tactile, they are always under hand, or underfoot; their hair is on you; they are on your lap while sitting or at your feet while eating or on the small of your back while sleeping. There’s the severing of the psychic connection, for sure, when losing a cat, but the physical void they leave is heavy.
It’s been three days since I was handed the box of ashes. Looking inside seemed inevitable, but I don’t think I will. Dude was a soft, meaty, and warm paperweight for the soul. I don’t want to see him as a pile of grit.
“The first thing I did in the hotel room was unplug the toilet.”
Saturday, September 19, 2009
L’shana tova to all the tribe members out there. Get yourself inscribed before you wreck yourself.
Friday, September 18, 2009
- Shin, 1, left, barked
- Toe, 1, right little ‘un, broken(?)
- Glass, 1, stemmed, placed on table with force, shattered
- Shirt, 1, cotton, absentmindedly used to open grenadine
- Tequila, reposado, not dead yet
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Hunting down a bookshop that’s breaking street date by five days? One of the highlights of the week.
Overheard conversation:
- Then a K9 cop came down the aisle while the train was between stations.
- Guess they were looking for bombs. Or drugs.
- Probably not drugs.
- Liberals. Must’ve been a liberal sniffer.
A while back I stumbled on a succinct word to describe something which cannot be described by conventional language and scribbled it down on a scrap of paper. Now I can’t find the scrap and am at a loss to describe how annoyed I am.