Spring


February Winter. Time to eat fat and watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat, a black fur sausage with yellow Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed and tries to get onto my head. It's his way of telling whether or not I'm dead. If I'm not, he wants to be scratched; if I am He'll think of something. He settles on my chest, breathing his breath of burped-up meat and musty sofas, purring like a washboard. Some other tomcat, not yet a capon, has been spraying our front door, declaring war. It's all about sex and territory, which are what will finish us off in the long run. Some cat owners around here should snip a few testicles. If we wise hominids were sensible, we'd do that too, or eat our young, like sharks. But it's love that does us in. Over and over Again, He shoots, he scores! and famine crouches in the bedsheets, ambushing the pulsing eiderdown, and the windchill factor hits thirty below, and the pollution pours out of our chimneys to keep us warm. February, month of despair, with a skewered heart in the centre. I think dire thoughts, and lust for French fries with a splash of vinegar. Cat, enough of your greedy whining and your small pink bumhole. Off my face! You're the life principle, more or less, so get going on a little optimism around here. Get rid of death. Celebrate increase. Make it be spring. (Margaret Atwood).


And so it is, almost. Spring. Kittehs. Sun. O that magic breeze like cotton and childhood and unnameable hope. And, a year almost, since my new living began.

It's been a little while since I've been on here. Because logins and passwords still trip me up a bit. Like Matt Kane says, "I just make the internet. I don't know how to use it."

I've finally woken up. A couple of diet cokes and some camel no. 9s and I am ready to roll! Waiting for a friend to meet me for a late breakfast, and then to my Grandma's to watch her till my Mama gets home. Not too many thoughts right now, other than the promise of spring, and a word to loved ones that I'm still alive, even though I'm woefully out of touch. And hungry. And love kittehs. The end.


Comments

myumblog said…
look at that kitten!!! ahhh!!! cute :) xo-Maya

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