fronty 3 of 4: race to the finish tape before the original pencil wears off
clicky 3 of 4: click on the fronty for skin, my birdbath water broke.
when you live with a cat, you develop ocd, or rather ocd is forced upon your crown. this is a blessing...and a curse...and a cliche. on the one hand, you are constantly looking out for little scraps of paper strewn on the floor, every little bit he gets his paws on, licks and opens up and smells and wants to eat, everything is a potential choking hazard. he plays with strings you thought weren't there, he can't wait to scale onto that tall light fixture which is an eyesore anyway, you must remove lilies which once beautified your living-room table and place them instead in the shower. the minute you wake up, your eyes are plastered to the carpet, scanning for little pieces of white, black, red, socks linen, gravy spills which become stains, tiny pieces of flint and fluff and plastic strips and twine and brick and mortar and dust and grime and mop hair and the hair the mop mopped and wires.
blessings arise as you see the world differently, you pay attention to the small stuff, every little detail of the world you cover and analyze, you begin to appreciate the atomic nature of Earth, at least your little plot of it at your house. as you take an action, you examine it and think about it, your brain is in two places at once telling your arms to move and sending philosophical signals to your mind about what just transpired with your arm there. your mind will negate any puffy philosophy and simply register a scientific output. then, the two compromise and end up with psychology.
i was telling her that the third trash-recycling bin was still full of brown twigs from the gardeners we just hired. they hadn't taken that one on this Tuesday when they take the other two, the trash and the recyclables. she responds that the schedule is different, the specialists come an hour after, to go check again. it was full this morning, but like magic it's empty now. sneaky trashmen. like magic then, a gush of wind hurriedly closes the planked gate ahead of me, locking me out of my own house. like a scared pup blocked from Mother Wolf, i pull on the emergency string that's supposed to gain access from the outside. *SNAP* fucking useless thing breaks in two on contact, funny as hell like in a cartoon, but this is my life, as useless as the string. it's embarrassing to have to knock on your own door, push the silent bell as unsilently as you can, knock like a madman, to get into your own house...wait for folks to get decent while you aren't decent. naked can be sexy, but my naked here was uncomfortable and ticket-inducing. that wind wasn't magic, it was anything but, it was planned.
in naked, i have the power, but in a hole ripped in my pants that i know not of, i am powerless. she told me that everyone at The Store could see my underwear. no, no, nobody cared enough about me to look at me much less a very obscure corner of my lower body to see anything. also, i wasn't wearing tighty whities, just standard blue boxers, so if anything, the patrons would get bored of me, not report me. lastly, i was representing myself like a hobo. i suppose i was a hobo in spirit, in the flesh, in all aspects of my life, i stopped caring years ago, but to have that pointed out against me, not for me to make that declarative statement about myself, really got me depressed. you're not supposed to care what others think of you, that's part of my spiel, i don't care about anything, my appearance, my looks, my demeanor, but this works only upon my agency, i pronounce the speech to the audience. the minute a heckler points out that my speech is hypocritical, power drains from my mic into his youtube-channel camera, and it turns out that i cared so much i bled, i was careless for a minute, and it cost me my not-caring.
when i lay down to sleep last night, my ears decided to chop me up into little pieces. what is going on? my eardrums are behaving like real booming drums, they are chopping up and down in my head, RUMP RUMP RUMP RUMP RUMP, never ceasing like the "secret" sound those who live near a UFO base or forbidden oil drill hear. RUMP RUMP RUMP RUMP, it was right after my shower, so water going down the wrong tubes must explain it. i can't hear the tv, it's just a lot of RUMP RUMP RUMP RUMP static, i can't sleep, i can't hear myself think save for the RUMP RUMP RUMP RUMP RUMP which doesn't have the courtesy to synchronize the beat into a manageable song so i can at least go RUMPSHAKER RUMPSHAKER. it's RUMP RUMP RUMP and once you have a beat, it pauses awkwardly, it goes away...it's gone RUMP. i move my head up, it goes away, i can drink water RUMP RUMP water is the problem, remember? need to get my entire head de-waxed...while i'm at it, might as well get a lobotomy...Dr. RUMPMEIER on line one...about the brain-exit.
do i feed my cat just the right amount of food each morning? am i measuring it correctly? i use the chart, but i haven't weighed him in a month, so the black line i drew with magic marker on the plastic cup is expired now, must be. one day, i decided to experiment by giving him a little more above the line, just to see. that's how it starts, you experiment, and eventually you end up mad like Dr. Rumpmeier. well, he finished it, he gobbled it all up, and the empty bowl was wailing to me, telling me he was still hungry, he could use more. so, how much more? should i fill the cup to the brim? see, he will down any amount i give him, he could probably eat two cups and not gain weight because he's so active, he'd burn it away into his third race around the house. if i just give him the standard load, could he tell the difference? now that i've opened the floodgates, will he resent me? it's like finding out the truth about God, once you read Nietzsche, you can't go back. once you go Black...Mustache, you can't put the toothpaste back in the tube. my kitten has seen the promised land of more food, but that little extra line will haunt me forever. what will that extra amount above the line mean for his future? will be become obese because of me and resent me for a different reason? the young are invincible, they don't think about such downer adult things, they can cruise the interstate, they'll never get in a car wreck, youth is wasted on the young, and for their masters, a lifetime of angst over stepping over the line.
i just heard the maid ring, she was right after all, it was the week of the second week, she comes every two weeks, i can never remember whether it's the off week or not.
i fucking hate when i forget to thaw out the bacon in the refrigerator from the freezer the night before. sure, i get an extra fifteen minutes of sleep from not tending to my chores, but man do i fucking pay for it in the morning. i'm ready for some juicy bacon, i look in the crisper, and OH NO, i didn't take the simple step of moving the bacon from the freezer to the refrigerator. the freezer now houses a fucking block of hard, immovable bacon ice. i have to cook the entire pallet of bacon strips in the microwave for a minute just so i am able to remove two pieces that i can cook properly. there is something very sad about this process, the bacon does not like it, it's violating, you're semi-cooking the entire batch, but not really, just enough to remove two strips, so the rest of the batch will forever be one-minute cooked but not really and immediately frozen again, well, not frozen, but refrigerated, so the next time you use these pieces, they are a maudlin mix of cooked and iced meat. was that 4AM, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE FOR THE SONG epic dream you experienced in your soul during the night but can't intellectually remember now worth it?
they say to write what you know...
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