from a place of wrath and tears
Too little of it, need more to look at a picture of black and white fur. Nights are desolate places in my mind, no one watching, no one purring.
And too much of it. How much longer obliging this hobby-turned-into-job-and-hating-the-hobby. I had so many dreams, had so many break throughs.
Can I go back over twelve years, when the deadline was tomorrow and I wasn't even 30? Where I'd work a full day, come home and tend the flowers and weeds, and still find energy and time to spend with my friends who now sometimes keep me awake anight with their urgent questions. Always the same questions, as it is. Where will we go? How will we end? Tell us, write it all down...
Is that you, CowWatcher?
What was the name you called me? (wind - called - crow - lift head - lonely)
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Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
It sucks
like mud covered up by a fine layer of dust and a tangle of flowers.
There you are, all ladeedaying about in the busy busy life and then some little synaps suddenly decides to make your skin and muscles remember how it felt, the weight of him on one arm and all spread out over your lap, the very gentle swell of his breathing, the little rumble with which he'd start purring, the total abandon after a deep sigh of content. An infinite universe of memory compressed into a little black hole that pulls an alien croak from your throat.
And you stumble along through a day suddenly broken, one feet naked, boot still stuck in the mud.
There you are, all ladeedaying about in the busy busy life and then some little synaps suddenly decides to make your skin and muscles remember how it felt, the weight of him on one arm and all spread out over your lap, the very gentle swell of his breathing, the little rumble with which he'd start purring, the total abandon after a deep sigh of content. An infinite universe of memory compressed into a little black hole that pulls an alien croak from your throat.
And you stumble along through a day suddenly broken, one feet naked, boot still stuck in the mud.
Wrath & tears babeh.
THEY took him, digiblips.
The sole living creature that has accepted my crap for 16 years.
The problem is, life has been so much crap, for months, the last couple of years, I can no longer feel. It hurts, but I feel the festering below, the no-hurt festering, the slow sleeping toxin.
He's gone. poof, like that.
HE WAS HERE YESTERDAY GODDAMMINT.
I'm so anrgy. I'm angry because I'm angry; I've got more self control than this. Angry at being angry helps.
Helps them.
They don't see. They don't know.
I see them, whispering, there she comes, that hysteric cunt.
They don't know the hysterics are all that keep me from simple killing them. Killing is easy. You don't even need a Kalashnikov like those bastards in Paris. A car, a bit of fire, all will do. There's a wind out, and it's howling King Lear's speech. They'll drown. I've got lightning at my fingertips if I call for it.
Killing is easy.
They are all digiblips.
Bastards. They took my Steerpike from me. They will pay.
The sole living creature that has accepted my crap for 16 years.
The problem is, life has been so much crap, for months, the last couple of years, I can no longer feel. It hurts, but I feel the festering below, the no-hurt festering, the slow sleeping toxin.
He's gone. poof, like that.
HE WAS HERE YESTERDAY GODDAMMINT.
I'm so anrgy. I'm angry because I'm angry; I've got more self control than this. Angry at being angry helps.
Helps them.
They don't see. They don't know.
I see them, whispering, there she comes, that hysteric cunt.
They don't know the hysterics are all that keep me from simple killing them. Killing is easy. You don't even need a Kalashnikov like those bastards in Paris. A car, a bit of fire, all will do. There's a wind out, and it's howling King Lear's speech. They'll drown. I've got lightning at my fingertips if I call for it.
Killing is easy.
They are all digiblips.
Bastards. They took my Steerpike from me. They will pay.
Messiah-cell
Woke up and didn't know where I was and what day it was.
That's okay, the brain said, let's just turn over and sleep some more until we do.
But through the haze came the screaming of one little braincell: Hey, we haven't felt like this in ages, so this must be wrong!
Rest of the brain went: Blah blah, too busy turning this lump of flesh on its other side to understand a word of what you're saying.
So then I found out that this one braincell is where my savior complex and megalomania live, all of my universe saving in the face of Armageddon powers reside. Because that tiny little braincell kept on whispering 'Alert! Alert!' but helped turning over the lump of flesh anyway, because its a cunning little braincell, you see.
All it had to do next is open one eye, just a tiny bit while its colleagues were snuggling down into sleep again.
And there it was.
Victory.
08:15 screaming red in the dark.
Look, messiah-cell pointed, look. It's past seven!
It took another second for the message to gently roll home.
And then it was out of bed, stumble downstairs and grab a cat...
That's okay, the brain said, let's just turn over and sleep some more until we do.
But through the haze came the screaming of one little braincell: Hey, we haven't felt like this in ages, so this must be wrong!
Rest of the brain went: Blah blah, too busy turning this lump of flesh on its other side to understand a word of what you're saying.
So then I found out that this one braincell is where my savior complex and megalomania live, all of my universe saving in the face of Armageddon powers reside. Because that tiny little braincell kept on whispering 'Alert! Alert!' but helped turning over the lump of flesh anyway, because its a cunning little braincell, you see.
All it had to do next is open one eye, just a tiny bit while its colleagues were snuggling down into sleep again.
And there it was.
Victory.
08:15 screaming red in the dark.
Look, messiah-cell pointed, look. It's past seven!
It took another second for the message to gently roll home.
And then it was out of bed, stumble downstairs and grab a cat...
The Valley
Goddamn, and it's hot and dry here. For as far as they eye can see. Wish I had a smoke now.
I dared God didn't I? Said next time I would hold up my goddamned dead cat as the accusation it was meant to be.
'xcept, cat didn't die. Just got that damned luxury hoe disease: diabetes. Yup, right when I finally thought I got my life back where I wanted, with dad living in his own place, crazy mom in the other, 'social' brother somewhere where everybody can see the pics and nobody ever question whether dude has his very own mom and pop alive yet besides mom-in-law in the pics.
It's in the little big things, isn't it? Seriously, I'm so happy it ain't the kidneys that went kaphloey. Slightly gnnnignni at the vet for not wanting to check his blood earlier because something's been wrong for a while, and no it's not a sudden flea allergy but hey in the meanwhile he lost all his ballast and more.
Happy happy. But this is me, getting up at least 7h30 to feed a cat and jab him with insulin, for the next ten years or more. Being home at 19u30 to 20h to do the same. Shit bastards were supposed to be my freedom in comparison with kids.
I hear you say, digiblips, that's where and when one learns not to dare God and shit.
You're using my cat against me, bitch? I'm going to find the nastiest chthonic bastard and team up to bring that fuck down, yeah.
I dared God didn't I? Said next time I would hold up my goddamned dead cat as the accusation it was meant to be.
'xcept, cat didn't die. Just got that damned luxury hoe disease: diabetes. Yup, right when I finally thought I got my life back where I wanted, with dad living in his own place, crazy mom in the other, 'social' brother somewhere where everybody can see the pics and nobody ever question whether dude has his very own mom and pop alive yet besides mom-in-law in the pics.
It's in the little big things, isn't it? Seriously, I'm so happy it ain't the kidneys that went kaphloey. Slightly gnnnignni at the vet for not wanting to check his blood earlier because something's been wrong for a while, and no it's not a sudden flea allergy but hey in the meanwhile he lost all his ballast and more.
Happy happy. But this is me, getting up at least 7h30 to feed a cat and jab him with insulin, for the next ten years or more. Being home at 19u30 to 20h to do the same. Shit bastards were supposed to be my freedom in comparison with kids.
I hear you say, digiblips, that's where and when one learns not to dare God and shit.
You're using my cat against me, bitch? I'm going to find the nastiest chthonic bastard and team up to bring that fuck down, yeah.
Marker
"Kevin liked to say, 'On judgment day when I'm
brought up before the great judge I'm going to say, "Hold on a second,"
and then I'm going to whip out my dead cat from inside my coat. "How do
you explain *this*?" I'm going to ask.' By then, Kevin used to say, the
cat would be as stiff as a frying pan; he would hold out the cat by its
handle, its tail, and wait for a satisfactory answer."
~Valis, Philip K. Dick
I've got a feeling I'll be reading Valis again, because I need something of substance. Something tougher, sharper, more naked underneath the escapist magic tricks.
Life's a bitch, and my life's been a particular bitch for a while now. Not to be bitching about the bitch, and unlike David Byrne, I'm not wondering where the beautiful car is. I'm simply wondering where every-fucking-thing went.
So here we are, more than a year after the hubby and me took in dad, because he could not return to his old place and live alone there, and we were all that was left, for a myriad of reasons that will get me spitting bitter foam as it is, so no need to go into that. Sucks to be the idiot that believes there's something as an honest draw with one short straw in the stack, hah.
Anyways, in the meantime my mom's boyfriend passed away, leaving a shadow of the strong and independent woman that raised me, and on top she'd been actin' funny too for a while and it ain't really passing even now she's finding herself again. Unless I personally visit her every day. Capisce?
See, in the life I had planned, there was a hole for one parent to take care of daily, and my dad wasn't it. He's sleeping in the guest bed reserved for mom years ago, imagine how that goes for a gall whose parents divorced 35 years ago. Things are just peachy!
Meanwhile I had a great job except for the idiots I had to deal with in the workplace. Luckily it was a substitute thing, so when the substituting was done and they offered me a real position I bowed out, and found THE JOB OF MY LIFE, except I'm not allowed to continue doing the job, because I don't have a bachelor degree, which the Flemish authority of sports federations thinks I should have. *Any* bachelor degree is better than someone who's been gathering directory secretary competences by doing for over 10 years the job of the better qualified and better paid person over head ("over-head" got it? I made a joke there, see?)
And just when you think: ah, well, when the going gets tough, the tough get going (*eyeroll* I know), GOD KILLS MY GODDAMNED CAT!
There. I just needed a marker for just this day, see. Because I've got plenty of dead cats stowed away in my coat. But Pipsqueek, right here right now, is where this crap stops, okay? Next big thing that happens better be ME WINNING THE EFFING LOTTERY ARRIGHT?
Jeez, fuck karma, man, what was I supposed to be in my former life? The guy who butt fucked Charlie Manson when he was 5?
~Valis, Philip K. Dick
I've got a feeling I'll be reading Valis again, because I need something of substance. Something tougher, sharper, more naked underneath the escapist magic tricks.
Life's a bitch, and my life's been a particular bitch for a while now. Not to be bitching about the bitch, and unlike David Byrne, I'm not wondering where the beautiful car is. I'm simply wondering where every-fucking-thing went.
So here we are, more than a year after the hubby and me took in dad, because he could not return to his old place and live alone there, and we were all that was left, for a myriad of reasons that will get me spitting bitter foam as it is, so no need to go into that. Sucks to be the idiot that believes there's something as an honest draw with one short straw in the stack, hah.
Anyways, in the meantime my mom's boyfriend passed away, leaving a shadow of the strong and independent woman that raised me, and on top she'd been actin' funny too for a while and it ain't really passing even now she's finding herself again. Unless I personally visit her every day. Capisce?
See, in the life I had planned, there was a hole for one parent to take care of daily, and my dad wasn't it. He's sleeping in the guest bed reserved for mom years ago, imagine how that goes for a gall whose parents divorced 35 years ago. Things are just peachy!
Meanwhile I had a great job except for the idiots I had to deal with in the workplace. Luckily it was a substitute thing, so when the substituting was done and they offered me a real position I bowed out, and found THE JOB OF MY LIFE, except I'm not allowed to continue doing the job, because I don't have a bachelor degree, which the Flemish authority of sports federations thinks I should have. *Any* bachelor degree is better than someone who's been gathering directory secretary competences by doing for over 10 years the job of the better qualified and better paid person over head ("over-head" got it? I made a joke there, see?)
And just when you think: ah, well, when the going gets tough, the tough get going (*eyeroll* I know), GOD KILLS MY GODDAMNED CAT!
There. I just needed a marker for just this day, see. Because I've got plenty of dead cats stowed away in my coat. But Pipsqueek, right here right now, is where this crap stops, okay? Next big thing that happens better be ME WINNING THE EFFING LOTTERY ARRIGHT?
Jeez, fuck karma, man, what was I supposed to be in my former life? The guy who butt fucked Charlie Manson when he was 5?
Hunting
I'm up, because my brain insists I have other things to do at 5:30 than sleep. Hey, what do I know, right? But I got tired of hunting after Mr. Sandman and decided that I *do* have other things I could do.
Also there's a dead mouse starving under some piece of furniture in this room. I know, because its withering little body leaves quite the stink.
Aaah (though not inhaling too deeply)! The joys of having 3 fun-loving cats...
Must find the smelly little bugger.
Also there's a dead mouse starving under some piece of furniture in this room. I know, because its withering little body leaves quite the stink.
Aaah (though not inhaling too deeply)! The joys of having 3 fun-loving cats...
Must find the smelly little bugger.
Mark C. Newton's Remix Project ::Update:: and ::Spring!::
Wahay, my story's up at Mark Newton's blog, go check it out here!
See, now I'm nervous and fight the urge to find me a big dry rock to crawl under.
Okay, moment passed. I can breathe again.
I think we've got a poltergeist here. Cats roam around, find a corner in an empty room (like the cellar, or the bathroom, far far from where I am) and start mewling. No, mewling doesn't sound like the sound they're making. "Maowing" should do it. So they maow maow at the wall. And just when I think I should go look at what's the matter, they scurry in a flurry through the house, find some high ground where they do a fast paced "The Exorcist" dance, and then they scurryflurry to somewhere else, usually outside. Psychocat, in all the confusion usually ends up on the table, before she realizes that that's the one place cats are not supposed to be in our house. At least when the twoleggers are home/standinrightbesidecha. So see, poltergeist.
Hold on, that can't be right. *snaps fingers* I know what this is! It's: nothing says spring like:
Oh my lovelies, are we going to have a fun day of Advantage rubbing! And making fun of your punk hairdos. And laugh at your all-wrinkly "ooh this smells baaaaaaaad" faces.
See, now I'm nervous and fight the urge to find me a big dry rock to crawl under.
Okay, moment passed. I can breathe again.
I think we've got a poltergeist here. Cats roam around, find a corner in an empty room (like the cellar, or the bathroom, far far from where I am) and start mewling. No, mewling doesn't sound like the sound they're making. "Maowing" should do it. So they maow maow at the wall. And just when I think I should go look at what's the matter, they scurry in a flurry through the house, find some high ground where they do a fast paced "The Exorcist" dance, and then they scurryflurry to somewhere else, usually outside. Psychocat, in all the confusion usually ends up on the table, before she realizes that that's the one place cats are not supposed to be in our house. At least when the twoleggers are home/standinrightbesidecha. So see, poltergeist.
Hold on, that can't be right. *snaps fingers* I know what this is! It's: nothing says spring like:
FLEAS!
Oh my lovelies, are we going to have a fun day of Advantage rubbing! And making fun of your punk hairdos. And laugh at your all-wrinkly "ooh this smells baaaaaaaad" faces.
