Little Cat's Yarn

I was hunting a deer buck in the wood when I heard a distant murmur. Turning upon that disturbance I witnessed an unacceptable sight: a squirrel buck entering a garage house, one similar to the one I own. I slid toward that mirage, hoping the hunt would both be realized and satisfactory. The squirrel was an easy feat. I bathed in her neck blood and dressed myself in a lavish fur coat of defeat. Nearing the end of my death dance I heard the same murmur I had heard earlier that eve, with one difference: the sound was upon me, all around me, deafening. I recalled the horrid deer buck, as she sat upon the hill bathed in the glow of the shy moon. I began to slide away, to exit this horrid garage house. But this garage house was unlike the one I owned, the exit door was covered by grey blocks. I had learned long ago from an elder feline to always remember your escape route. But the familiarity of this garage house had acted as a deception and I was left eating crow. Or squirrel buck, as it were.

Stuck in the garage house. Minutes turned to hours as days became the sand of my sorry hourglass. I recall little of this horrid time. A feline without food nor warmth, downtrodden and unrequited. I vaguely recall a white tempest falling from the sky. I have seen such things since then and I am none the cozy towards him.* Retched, horrid ghosts. Scaring a royal feline, such as myself, and for not a reason. Upon the ninth day, when I was on my last life, the garage house was flooded with light. The smell of squirrel and field mouse and weasel buck filled my olfactory. The Old Factory, back in action. A surfeit of light, horrid bird taunts, the dew of morning's hunt, all that was once taken for granted - nay, hated! - was now generously accepted. God's grace. And a dish filled with feline fodder. "It's good to be home," I told Bitch. It's good to be home.

*Little cat is apparently afraid of sheets to this day.

On October 24th, Em and I shared a 7 year moment. Did you know that? Went to Trader Joe's today, got Dark Chocolate Covered Raisins. This week is going to be a crazy one. Halloween, setting Christmas the next day, first of the month sales, and going to New York City. I'm Big Happy about seeing the Huge Apple. We get back sometime Sunday and then I don't work Monday, nor Tuesday all the way up until Saturday. I do work Sunday the 5th. Cinco de Novo.

I need to see Marie Antoinette again. If you don't like it don't tell me about it. I don't care about that. If you do like it don't tell me about that either, because it's my thing. Me.

Em put my robe in the laundry basket.

Though not under the best of circumstances, I am going to see Vin tonight. He is back in town for his Grandmother's funeral. Maybe he can tell me why my apartment is so cold, that asshole. The cold. I'm talking about the cold.

Marie Antoinette and The Staircase. Also edited The Heart Reader. The Staircase is addictive. I want to finish it. NOW. And Marie Antoinette is beautiful. I don't think Sofia Copolla could disappoint me.

Jump forward two days: It is freezing! I want to take a knife to all of this plastic and light a fire in my living room. Fuck it's cold. Cold it's fuck.

Apollo at Go at CLC. The You at Brillo Box. And I worked 8-1:30 (my day off). I hate going to shows, did you know this? I did get to hear Camera for the first time but I would have been fine with just hearing a couple songs on my own. Live music is for the birds.

Made another short about a Heart Reader. Coming soon to You Tube, we think. Beth helped and so did Mr Dave Watt. I went to bed at 3 without Emily by my side. My most hated way to sleep.

Let me jump to the present (24 Oct): this apartment is freezing!!! Putting plastic over your windows does nothing.

I had two Guinesses (pronouced Guineas). And a $4 shot of Jim Beam. Ate Paneer Tikka Mahkni. Worked 13 hours. Saw friends. I remember a conversation about a highschool friend, and I remember awesome gifts* I remember sleeping at some point and I remember love.

*The Complete New Yorker, Mixed CD, Wholphin DVD, card with amazing design, cards without amazing design but still nice to have anyway, Jason Molina record, a note in a pouch with 26 scraps in a matchbook box. Did I mention I got the Complete New Yorker?

XXVI

'Happy Birthday old man. I hope your day is purr-fect'
'And I hope your day is ribet-ing, Jason. You've leaped another lilly pad of a year'

how i look today

When I'm sick, I eat a lot of crap. I woke up to a kudos bar, followed by a fruit and nuts granola bar, then I went out to get swiss cake rolls, oatmeal cookies, orange juice and taco bell. Some of the things in there aren't so bad I guess. But dont most people have a small appetite when they are sick? Not this guy. I'm the guy, who eats ho-ho's when he is sick. And who watches all of The Office, season two. The American version, of course. Because in case you didn't know, the British version is old and played out. I'm about to watch The Triplet's of Belleville. I also finished this book that I have been reading for the past week and read another. But they both include lots of drawings so it's nothing impressive. Oh, and I read all of Proust's work. But that's just vast, so no biggie.

Here's a poem I wrote, just now:

Congestion sleeping bag kleenex
cookie juice movie couch
sleep day off ho-ho
my feet are cold

And I thought I could be a famous writer! No, no. Not a writer, not a director, not a drummer, definitely not a illustrator. I'm an Ass Manager. Making my parents proud. But, I'm only thinking of fame and fortune. I have written, I have directed, I drum, I try to draw. I just can't do that for a career. I wish I could puke out another story though. Soon. Muse, I'm dying! Come hither like a feather through the weather wear a sweater! That's my poem for the day. Forget the other one.

HYPERION

I've decided two things: Firstly, I want to see the world's tallest tree. Her name is Hyperion and she is 378.1 feet tall. Biology doesn't even know what to do with a tree like that. Biologists are talking amongst themselves, saying: "How does this Hyperion get water to its uppermosts?" Others are adding, "Yes, what about gravity?" "Oh yes," they are saying, "Gravitas, precisely." Secondly, I have also decided that if a 378.1 foot tall tree does nothing for you, if it doesn't stop and make you think about how big and scary a tree that height is, then I do not like you.

End of story.

I haven't laughed this much or felt more embarassed since I first watched The Office. The reason: I'm watching the American version. So should you. Change is good. Fascists thought so and look what happened to them.

We're having so much fun!

Today is Mother's Day somewhere, so go wish her one.

You expected me to say I was watching Pete and Pete. Ha!

And Tortilla soup and too many bananas and I want chocolate-stuff and why does Jared want my drums back and firewire.