Feet up, shoes off, chair reclined, listening to the stairwell reverberate with calls to higher beings and wailing melodies whose feelings have not yet been invented, nor words aligned with rooms that are tossed. English? No chance. Patwah? Perhaps. The calf now creased heavily by the end of the desk, pale without a tinge of troublesome yellow-trappings that went out with the rumbling thunder and the char of the descending kings-now left with an edging frame, as vindicative as the earth feebly stroked for bellying parallel to the escaping idols on the smelted raft-rolling tablets, munition grafted, callouses soft. The drop-off, a cliff and a gorge below tunneling through a watershed of burnt up banana peels and lush green plants that rise and fall with each flexion of the foot, ashes burrowing into the heel asking the finger muraled diamonds to follow where the hatchet cleared shrubs fill the mind with extra air, musky fumes spinning spears taught. At the bottom of the stairs, sobs overtake the science of dawdling. A curt drumroll and a fuzzy bassline, we have acetized guests… the seat returns upright- modernity buys silence with a cough. Time to back up all files…socks skating upon the wooden floor….an elevator rings the tambourine, culturally, no bad, makes no worse, assessment is collision curvature…another request of chunky beams -cathedral lights of the slamming steel door- in the boorish parking lot, the engineer feeling the creative panic. Thru elevated glass…a handshake dives low, the beat of the oars worships wide of the intruder’s fence…

July 21, 2012

So Ted has been back for less than an hour and I am already wishing he had extended his stay or at least gotten detained by airport security. I personally would have opted for the latter. An over zealous TSA worker with a few rubber gloves would have given Ted the wonderful experience of what its like to visit the vet.  Speaking of the vet, I feel like I am in the waiting room. The uneasy feeling of wondering what is coming next has been transplanted into the middle of my living room. The peace and quiet of having the entire house to myself has now been replaced by the roar of the television. And the joys of reclining on the comfy couch have been greatly restricted. As I write this I am currently holed up in the bathroom. Apparently, Ted thought it important to throw himself a welcome home party….how lame. Who throws themselves a welcome home party? First of all, Its not like Ted was coming home from a semester at school or eight years in the federal penitentery….although that’s where he belongs after leaving me at the mercy of those nutty neighbors. Nope,  Ted was only gone for three days. Second, isn’t it the responsibility of your friends to throw you the party? I realize that Ted doesn’t have many close associations, but surely someone could have stepped up and invited him over if it was so damn important. At least I would have had a few more hours to relax. Instead I am doing my best to keep out of sight, as Ted and and a bunch of idiots watch football. I know I am only a simple housecat, but I have yet to understand why humans are always yelling at the TV during sporting events. AFter all it is only a game. Try watching National Geographic some time. That channel invites emotion. It still bothers me that despite all of my loud meows and ___warnings,  those  African antelopes  continue to wander right into the jaws of a waiting lion. I know that these giant cats  are distant relatives, but I cannot help rooting for the underdog. But at least the action desert is  quick and the outcome is definiteve. I think human sports could take a page from the animal kingdom. All those stoppages for commercials and injuries is just too much. Could you imagine if someone tried interrupting a lion attacking his prey to get in a few words about an advertising sponsor? Or if a doctor came out to stop the aggression so that he could attend to a sprained ankle or a sore whisker? Nope, would never happen. Maybe that’s what they need to do with human sports. Everytime there is a stoppage or an injury send out a lion to liven up things or too take care of the weak. You know what they say. Survival of the fittest. I know it will probably never happen. For one thing, the players union would never go for it….unless it got them bigger contracts. And then you would have to compensate the animals. We may eat carbage or smell each others butts, but that doesn’t mean we are stupid. We realize the importance of currency and all the wonderful treats that it can buy. I guess that type of fun isn’t quite ready for prime time. But it may very well have a place in my living room, because as we speak it appears that one of Ted’s friends just cut his hand trying to open a beer.  I guess better sneak into position for my big debut.   Watch out Tom Brady, you are next!