|I need this mug (like I need a hole in the head, but I like it.)|
A hopeful sign or two for Friday: Cooder ate the Greenies that yesterday she eschewed and I saw the cardinal! I was facing the stove, watching the water boil as one does when one is waiting for coffee, when a sliverblur of red was able to penetrate my daze. And there he sat, in the remaining green with a fanflash of autumnal gold behind him. He was the fall equivalent of The Birth of Venus, the shell being the gold leaves … kind of nifty.
Emmylou, on the other hand, was no where to be seen downstairs. For a moment, I panicked thinking she had managed to escape while others were sleepily heading into the day. She was, however, in the front room on Mouse Watch. Being the good kitty she is, she attended when I called her.
It must have been yesterday when I saw another bird, sitting on the banister outside. In some strange confusion, I thought at first it was a cardinal, given its beauty and bearing. But it was a bright blue jay, strutting about the dying nasturtiums and morning glories. I think it was the brilliance of hue that caused a momentary confusion about what kind of bird it was. Then it flew at the window and up onto the roof.
Here at the Mahopac Library again, spending too much time listening to music. If you have some time check out The Hill and Wood and The Honeycutters. It's good to know that I haven't entirely lost my lust for music and that there is some great music being made ... which I suspected, of course, I am not that much of a fucking fogey. It took some digging around to come upon these ... now I am grooving along.
Damn, it is cold in here. Huge windows next to a lake, I shouldn't be surprised. I'm going to have to move back to see if there are any empty carrels.
Here's a version of the Richard Thompson Trio doing White Room. Carl would have been all over this. Sigh.
More from Seven Lives and One Great Love: Memoirs of a Cat
To make my meaning plain: They sit as we do, for hours and hours on end in the same spot, unmoving, unspeaking, undoing. They are thinking, they claim. I very much doubt it. I think that they eventually get abstracted from all the thinking and fall asleep inwardly, the way we do. I don't want you to misunderstand me, I count this in their favor. Doing nothing is, in all seriousness, one of the hardest things in the world. Plato and Aristotle even pointed out to their students that the principle of non action is one of the most spiritual in the world.
They are loners and misanthropes. They want their peace and quiet and so do we. They keep you at a distance and they come to you only when they choose. We aren't accountable to anyone as a matter of course.
Here's another treat, Bonnie Raitt with Lowell George doing Blind Faith ... Lowell George was another damn Aries. Should have known (faves Richard Thompson, Aretha Franklin, and Emmylou are all Aries, too). Listening to Willin' now. That makes me sad as it was a song some of us Mexico buddies used to sing, Pammie in particular. Linda sounds good for a change.
It's still cold although I moved. Now I might be sitting under a vent. Arrggh ...
As to yesterday's post about hurry sickness, that is one of the themes in Sean Wilsey's book of essays, More Curious. I have been looking for a quote but without much success. Here's two though
Lies tell the truths we can't. As a society our central lie is velocity. That we can keep all this up.
To better understand the comedy and poverty of the United States, I decided to cross them very slowly.
This time of year is challenging for me in that I never make the transition to coats and boots easily. Inasmuch as I prefer cooler weather, I don't much like wearing lots of clothes, so there's a conundrum for you (and me). AKA mentioned that it is cold today, but that didn't encourage me to get more layers and now I am paying the freezing-at-the-library price.