lines can haunt you

2006-12-12

Shadows of the afternoon

That sound...its mouthy ohmm. It is the deeper sound of the meow my cat makes when it is raining and he is outside and wet and wants to come inside. Meeoowwwommh, he says, and he means it. There is no place like home when you're tired and not there yet.

I am not one for quoting myself, at least not here, but this is an exception. For I have no cat now, I gave him up yesterday and I don't know where is home is. I'm moving and there was no place for me and a cat - which is obviously untrue, but is a partial truth to the testament that I didn't look very long or very hard for a place that would take us both, and so I quickly synthesized a future-me that was catless. And now I am dealing with the consequent emotions of having used the phrase 'my cat' - and meant it - and the present reality of not knowing where his home is or what it is like and whether he will be happy there.

I think this says something about me, and taken generally, it isn't very good. And my only defense is that I'm fully feeling the weight of the inaction that led to this outcome. What else to say? My cat is gone and it happened because I made it that way.

I said my goodbyes to him last night and gave him a nice petting and we shadow boxed for a while. I took some pictures and tried to get him to look playful for the camera. He got annoyed with me and attacked my arm and hissed viciously at my face. God I love that cat. He gets annoyed easily and hates almost everyone with an equanimity that almost can't be due to good genes alone. But he never let it seem like work. Regardless, his personality inspires me.

It tells me that there's no need for photographs. He says we don't need to have proof of our memories to make them real. You can't capture time, not even for an illusory moment. So just let it go. Fuck fake goodbyes and all that other bullshit. Just let me bite you one more time, maybe taste your blood, and I'll see you when I see you. You did right by me, for a time.

...about those bitter songs you sing...


Navigation previous entry next entry latest entry archives profile notes e-mail How lines can haunt you... Recent Forays 2009-03-10: The names 2008-05-21: in medias res 2007-11-14: The things I meant to write about: 2007-07-29: More than meets the eye 2007-04-13: Where the words have gone. Links Abroad in medias res Modern Drunkard Ftrain The Onion Exploding Dog McSweeney's Internet Tendency The National Pist Higher Blogs Palinode's Palace Schmutzie Friday Films Luvabeans Sprigs Fairlywell Dirty Laundry Boombasticat f-i-n jonquill Stray Sparrow Swordfern Pablo Ashahands Erasing		2006-12-12 Shadows of the afternoon That sound...its mouthy ohmm. It is the deeper sound of the meow my cat makes when it is raining and he is outside and wet and wants to come inside. Meeoowwwommh, he says, and he means it. There is no place like home when you're tired and not there yet. I am not one for quoting myself, at least not here, but this is an exception. For I have no cat now, I gave him up yesterday and I don't know where is home is. I'm moving and there was no place for me and a cat - which is obviously untrue, but is a partial truth to the testament that I didn't look very long or very hard for a place that would take us both, and so I quickly synthesized a future-me that was catless. And now I am dealing with the consequent emotions of having used the phrase 'my cat' - and meant it - and the present reality of not knowing where his home is or what it is like and whether he will be happy there. I think this says something about me, and taken generally, it isn't very good. And my only defense is that I'm fully feeling the weight of the inaction that led to this outcome. What else to say? My cat is gone and it happened because I made it that way. I said my goodbyes to him last night and gave him a nice petting and we shadow boxed for a while. I took some pictures and tried to get him to look playful for the camera. He got annoyed with me and attacked my arm and hissed viciously at my face. God I love that cat. He gets annoyed easily and hates almost everyone with an equanimity that almost can't be due to good genes alone. But he never let it seem like work. Regardless, his personality inspires me. It tells me that there's no need for photographs. He says we don't need to have proof of our memories to make them real. You can't capture time, not even for an illusory moment. So just let it go. Fuck fake goodbyes and all that other bullshit. Just let me bite you one more time, maybe taste your blood, and I'll see you when I see you. You did right by me, for a time. Tell me when this blog is updated email: