June 1st, 2013

2013, cyd, new

"close your eyes and think of home"

the cats don't seem excited about getting a new brother. hmmm. they will perk up. vader needs someone to play with. besides freddie and the occasional pounce on leeloo or fight with simon.

i think felix has another family. i'm fine with it, if he does. as long as he comes home in the mornings for our love sessions and for food. he's so happy being an outdoor cat. and i just want him to be happy.

i slept through the evening and now i'm up for late night. i spent the first two hours i was awake chain smoking and drinking coffee. now i've switched to gatorade and no cigarettes.

i'm downloading music. since i have more room now, hee. i keep thinking of songs i want on my play list, and going and hunting for them. i really miss limewire. right now i'm waiting on a ministry CD to download so i can listen to "All Day Remix". when i first moved to PA, i was lost. i hated it. i was the only punk in my school. i had a walkman i listened to on the bus, one tape. one i made off the radio, KROC in LA. it was that song. i played it over and over on the long ride to school, sitting in the very front seat. through the alien snow and ice and salt and disgustingness of pittsburgh. i remember the hate and desperation i was filled with. all i wanted was to go back to my sunny Mission Viejo and my rich school district and mormons that weren't amish in blue jeans. narrow, pot holed roads twisting through the grey. god, how that song kept me from killing people. suddenly today i remembered it and now i'm desperate to hear it.

the worst thing a parent can do is move their kid around all over the country. the second worst thing is to take your surf-punk daughter and drag her to the outskirts of what tripper called 'spittsburgh', and she was only 6. she knew.

i got three good things out of pittsburgh, kelli, leslie and tim. kelli is my best friend, leslie was my best friend and we are still close, and tim introduced me to douchebag, who took me to philly where i met doc. these three people are key in my life. i don't give douchebag any of the credit, it all goes to tim.

next friday is First Friday. doc and i are definitely going. the next night is the slam/open mic in the trailer at the construction site downtown. i love that. i want to go simply for the venue. i also want to hear the slam team. i was really impressed with the head of the team when she read at the double down slam. i sometimes wish i could write slam poetry, and then i stop myself and tell myself that what i write is for me, not for performance or judgment. sure, i like to perform my poems, but they are not meant for competitive performance. they are not political or in your face or loud.

9 hours until Bobo! we called the shelter today and spoke to the head of adoptions. she knows of doc coming in looking for jack, and his affair with bobo. i told her the $50 off sale put Bobo within reach to get for doc. she was all teary and stuff and told me they would hold bobo at the shelter tomorrow instead of sending him to the adoption fair. so he's waiting there, with my name on his cage, waiting for us.

i told evie tonight that the boys are going to outnumber us girls again. she meowed in agreement, or indigestion, hard to tell.

i'm going to go smoke and contemplate Ministry's transition from a straight up fluffy new wave band to the hard core evil that they are today.

have a nice morning.
2013, cyd, new

the Great Bobo Hunt is on!

okay, so they didn't hold the cat. and he's not going to the regular adoption fair at the pet mart. he's going to a car dealership. on the other side of town. doc is getting ready to go and wait to get him. he's going before the event begins because he doesn't want anyone else to get to him first. this valley is running out of precocious black cats for us to adopt. hee. at least i hope he's precocious, he looks it in his pic. they had to hold his head up, that is cool.

Red is haunting my dreams. in one, she kept sneaking back into the house and she wouldn't leave, we couldn't catch her. in another i was in the house i always dream about but with parts of this one thrown in for extra disorientation. we were moving out and had to get out quick and Red appeared and every time we started to get something accomplished, she started a fight with doc.

speaking of getting out quick, there was a voicemail from friends of ours, they have to leave their place by the 15th. he's a car mechanic with a garage full of tools that he works from home with. they wanted to know if they could move in here. again, i find the same problem i have with all of the people around here my own age: offspring. i will not have some ankle biter in here pulling at my cats' tails and getting into shit. and the guy, while his wife is nice enough, is someone i would stab the first time he got drunk.

people seem to think we have some sort of never ending fount of wealth. i don't get it. doc works, i'm on SSI and the bills have been kind of tight this past year because we decided to sacrifice some things for a nicer place to live. we have what money we have because we sacrifice more when we want something. and we save every penny we can, wherever we can. (i.e.: doc saved 70 cents per gallon on gas yesterday because of his shopping rewards accumulation, he does this every three months, so he filled up the truck and two jerry cans so we have gas for the scooter. as far as my scooter, we bought it new, wrecked it, paid to have it fixed and then GAVE the scooter to BJ's son. there was complicated stuff behind it, but what it comes down to is that and just that. Red texted about how we would be fine without her compensation, after all, we had just sold the scooter. stupid twatwaffle. our other friends seem to think we can just make rooms appear in the house and empty the garage and driveway. right. we don't have that power. we are at poverty level, too.

i was asked why i buy all my clothes at a thrift store, it's simple. it's cheap, the clothes are already shrunken and worn in so they're comfortable, and the clothes are durable, they have already survived one human's abuse, what more can i do to them. and like the person i was talking to, i only wear brand name clothes, just not ones with labels on the outside advertising that fact. the day i was asked that, i was wearing a DKNY t-shirt. i love that shirt. it has a crooked silk screen of the type of a ticket to some event. and it's the most comfortable fabric. right now i'm rocking a GAP t-shirt and 501s. because i'm cool like that. not that any of it matters. i just pick out clothes by feel and color, identifying fabrics from their touch and picking the ones i like best. then i pick the colors, usually black, white, or grey. then i look at the prices, and pick my favorites, sticking within my budget for the amount of clothes i want. i do this twice a year. with annual trips to walmart to supplement the wardrobe with unders and socks and tanks and v-necks.

meanwhile, bitchface goes to the fucking MALL and spends $25 on 1 t-shirt. ONE. that is the stupidest thing i've heard since she told me about her DUI convictions. brainless, that one is. that's half of my budget for clothes. this is why i don't get people. they put so much importance on looks when it's comfort that matters. there is a limit to that, i was thanking deities last night for sweatpants because i'd been wearing tight jeans all day. stupid mistake. today i am wearing my comfy jeans. no more fucking around with vanity like that. i'm vain in enough other areas (another gratuitous head shot, any one?).

i've brushed my teeth every day this week. this is a big deal for me. i have an aversion to brushing my teeth. or taking care of them at all. that's why i've lost so many. but this week something clicked in me, and i have been actually missing it when i don't. i am kind of liking the feeling of a clean mouth. especially with the cotton mouth i get. it really alleviates it.

okay, time to go clean the mudroom for Bobo. we don't want him jumping around on the boxes we have stacked in there and getting hurt. we were totally prepared for this one. litter box, water dish, food dish, ding (collar), treat, toys, scratchy thingies. we are prepared for a new cat. i can't wait. the first two days of isolation are the hardest on me.

enough, really time to go because CAT.
2013, cyd, new

huzzah!

bobo is home! doc had to go down to a car dealership to get him. they took a picture of him to put on facebook (cool!) but he asked them not to post it (boo!). i'll have pictures as soon as we let bobo out.

i went in to introduce myself to him. he was hiding in the boxes. i moved a box out of the way to expose him, he looked at me and greeted me with a deep, hearty meow. then he came out and i sat down in the mudroom with him. and did the love begin! he was all up in my face cuddling and snuggling and purring and meowing. he is attention deprived.

doc says he doesn't have to stay in the mudroom for two days, but i can't let him out now. *sigh* i can't get any pictures of him because he won't back off enough. i tried a couple of times, but, as with vader, i got a lens full of fur.

i've noticed that my writing has tightened up a bit since i started voraciously reading Bukowski. now i want to get his poetry and see if that has any influence on me. to be honest, i've never read a poem by him. i bet i could find some online. i'll get to that. i am always looking for new inspiration for my poetry and Bronte just isn't doing it. i'm afraid to read Plath because i fear i may end up too much like her, i've already been compared to her, though i don't know why.

right. i feel like i have something to do, but in actuality i have nothing. oh, i could fold the 8 pieces of laundry that are hanging outside. that's something.
2013, cyd, new

poets

i just read some sylvia plath, and no - the people who compared us did not have any idea what they were talking about. she is much more flowery and metaphorical than i am. i read a bunch of Bukowski's too. now there's a person i can compare my poetry to. same in style. not in quality. god he is great.
2013, cyd, new

bobo and Bukowski

bobo is somewhere in the house. i have no clue where. i'm just waiting to hear the hissing. then i'll find him. my facebook page and twitter feed both have pictures. oh, wait, i'm dumb, i can post a link: http://twitpic.com/cuv9kl

i guess i'm not eating dinner, hee. doc just went to sleep. i'll have eggs later, i'm not in the mood for takeout anyway.

i finished reading "Hollywood" by Charles Bukowski. it's about the making of "Barfly", the movie he wrote the original screenplay for. then i read 139 poems by him. it both inspired and daunted me. his poetry makes me feel better about my own that is about rather pedestrian stuff. his stuff could all be a story he's telling. it's all in the reading of it.

wow, i make one tweet about Bukowski and i'm suddenly being followed by @Bukowski_net. cool! i want to find other writers like him.

i'm so buzzing with words right now. there is only one problem. i have vowed to myself not to waste any of "the poem" as Bukowski called the process, on Red and she is my primary influence right now, because she is what brings up my strong feelings. so i'm no writing. i'm reading instead. and i want to buy up all of is books on amazon. i'll collect them one at a time and buy them used.

next up, the Original Punk Poet, Kathy Acker. i found her hard to follow the last time i read her, so i'm looking forward to rereading what little i have of her work (after all, when i first read Bukowski 20 years ago, i found him boring, now i find everything about his writing thrilling).
2013, cyd, new

(no subject)

so i can't find the new cat and i've listened to this danzig song at least 17 times now. i think i'm stoned.

yeah, i've been searching the house for bobo, but he's not around. he's in here somewhere, i just can't find him. i'm a little concerned but not much because he has food and knows where the litter box is.

. . . i went in to go to the bathroom and ended up taking a bath. and reading a third of the book. i haven't read the whole thing before. it's good. there are a lot of drawings of body parts. a map of her dreams . . . those don't make any sense to me but i really admire the way she was able to express it.

why didn't i read these two people when i first got the books? while they were still alive and i could have expressed how their work makes me feel. at least Bukowski lived a full life. Acker was taken too soon.

i still don't have any idea where the cat is. i figure he's found a nice secluded space and will come out when he's ready, like simon did.

i've been researching the use of medical marijuana on animals. for separation anxiety, cancer, same stuff as humans. a tincture is made of hemp and glycerine and given to the animal in small doses. i've read a lot of anecdotal stuff about its use. more testing needs to be done before i go giving my babies drugs. though part of me wonders if it wouldn't help lelu with her joints, along with the cosequin. the rest of the cats are perfectly healthy and hearty, so they don't need medicine of any kind.

i had my first twitter misunderstanding today. it got sorted quickly enough. but it was funny. i knew it was inevitable once i started to interact with people on there, i just can't help myself anymore. i must comment on these moronic theist statements sometimes. and the atheist elite don't know me yet.

i've been reading http://mormonthink.com and it is fascinating. the one thing they don't have, that i want to know more about, it a massacre of native americans that mormon pioneers are responsible for. it is alleged that one of my direct relatives was involved and i'd like to know more. my seminary teacher told me it was a sensitive issue and she wasn't allowed to talk about it outside of the confines of the church leader dictated lesson. but the site is a good read.