A GREAT SET OF NOTHING

Tra la la la la la la
Tra la la la la la la

For those not in the know, that is the beginning of The Banana Splits theme song.

Carl was entranced with this show. Then again, the tv often ate Carl as a child. Once he was hooked in, you could stand right in front of him and he would pay you nary a never mind. To get his attention, physical contact was required.

And but soft! What do I hear but a puking cat so very near. I best go investigate. That was Emmylou. For those of you not in the know, cats and wall-to-wall carpeting are not a good mix. I dislike wall-to-wall carpeting, particularly when you have potentially nice hard wood floor below. Wall-to-wall carpeting is much harder to keep clean than wood floors. Just sayin'.

Now comes another potentially puking cat through the window, Butterscotch. She was in some kind of heaven last night as I had my door closed so that Emmylou could not attempt another of her destructive jailbreaks through the broken window. This gave Butterscotch free reign over me without fear of reprisal from her enemy cats, particularly Vera Paris and Oona Minnie Pearl Moonlight, both of whom like to whack her around. 'Scotch was free to wake me frequently for petting and even use my body as her personal beach. 

After puking, Emmylou is now sitting on the gardening bench below my desk window. I guess all is well.

Later that evening.

Yes, well, it is almost 8:00. Failing being run over by a steamroller, a physical one as the current life situation is steamroller-a-plenty, I just feel like being flat in bed. I think about Celine's book Death on the Installment Plan. It sure feels like a slow, drawn out march to that at the moment.  If only death could be reasonably previewed so you had a better idea if you wanted to commit, kind of like living with someone before you decide to get married.  

Then again, we hear that heavy drug addiction relieves some of the immediate pain.

Yeah. All different kinds of pain, including some physical. And a lot psychic.  

Later again.

The street will be oiled tomorrow, so cars had to be moved by 8:00 a.m. I moved the Honda tonight so as to not be worried about it tomorrow.

Janet is in bed, here at 10:10. I just spent the last fifteen or twenty minutes petting Emmylou, which is a somewhat rare occurrence. 

I could sit here and mouth breathe.

I tried my hand at hot and sour soup tonight from an easy Martha Stewart book. The results were okay, but not outstanding. Janet liked it though. I will consult some other recipes. I love those shiitakes and I over bought so I must find something else to do with them.

I cannot get this Fugs song out of my head, although I think it stolen from a Yiddish source.

Monday, nothing
Tuesday, nothing
Wednesday and Thursday nothing
Friday, for a change
A little more nothing
Saturday once more nothing

Sunday nothing
Monday nothing
Tuesday and Wednesday nothing
Thursday, for a change
A little more nothing
Friday once more nothing

Montik, gornisht
Dinstik, gornisht
Midvokh un Donershtik gornisht
Fraytik, far a noveneh
Gornisht pikveleh
Shabes nach a mool gornisht

Lunes, nada
Martes, nada
Miercoles y Jueves, nada
Viernes, por cambip
Un poco mas nada
Sabado otra vez nada

January, nothing
February, nothing
March and April, nothing
May and June
A lot more nothing
July, nothing

'29, nothing
'32, nothing
'39, '45, nothing
1965, a whole lot of nothing
1966, nothing

Reading, nothing
Writing, nothing
Even arithmetic, nothing
Geography, philosophy, history, nothing
Social anthropology, a lot of nothing

Oh, Village Voice, nothing
New Yorker, nothing
Sing Out and Folkways, nothing
Harry Smith and Allen Ginsberg,
Nothing, nothing, nothing

Poetry, nothing
Music, nothing
Painting and dancing, nothing
The world's great books
A great set of nothing
Audy and Foudy, nothing

Fucking, nothing
Sucking, nothing
Flesh and sex, nothing
Church and Times Square
All a lot of nothing
Nothing, nothing, nothing

Stevenson, nothing
Humphrey, nothing
Averell Harriman, nothing
John Stuart Mill, nil, nil
Franklin Delano, nothing

Carlos Marx, nothing
Engels, nothing
Bakunin and Kropotkin, nothing
Leon Trotsky, lots of nothing
Stalin, less than nothing

Nothing nothing nothing nothing
Lots and lots and lots of nothing
Nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing
Lots of it
Nothing!
Not a God damn thing