Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers
cydniey

Dear Diary, Someone's Got to Love That Man

Dear Diary,


Okay, so it’s me that loves him. But to be completely honest, I can get nothing done when he is around. Especially now, after the watershed. We are so close now, such good friends, that we want to be around each other all the time. And he hasn’t been the least bit helpful in keeping me from talking, no matter what he thinks. He kept asking me questions last night and today, and then telling me to be quiet when I tried to speak. I couldn’t stop laughing at him after the third time in 15 minutes that the twit did it.


I spoke to Felix earlier, and my voice seemed to have returned. I’m keeping mum right now. I want to do a reading tonight and record it, so I’m saving the voice I heard address the cat. Pitiful as it was.


I actually started revising poems of mine that I hate. I know, I have never done revisions before, I have always clung to the illusion of the original vision above all else. But I can look back more clearly now, most times, better express, and sometimes even further express the things I was trying to say. And most of the time I don’t like a poem of mine, it is because it is, in a sense, incomplete. It needs to be looked at and assessed. And I like them when I am done. On the one hand, this gives me a LOT more material, on the other hand, this gives me a LOT more material. If you get my meaning. I’ve just started sorting them all into categories for future publication. Now I have many many more to go through. But I”m really enjoying the process, and it is a good distraction from the glue and the wire and the beads right now. I don’t want to get burned out on jewelry.


Okay, I miss him. Obstructionist that he is, the house is too quiet when he is gone.


He got two boxes he sent himself from his parent’s house, today. He was in no hurry to open them, I don’t know what is in them. I think it’s things his mom kept handing him, telling him to take. But I’m not sure, it could just be junk from his old room. He brought home his dad’s BDU shirt in his suitcase. We’re discussing getting a half mannequin top to put it on. Without a head, of course. That would be creepy. But it has dad’s name on it and his rank insignia. It’s from the Korean Conflict. Or, war, as it was known to those who wore clothes like dad did. Man, the stories . . . if you ever have the chance to talk to a Korean or Cold War vet, DO IT! Everything they say will be fascinating. Jesus, I want to start going to Retirement Communities and searching them out and video-ing their stories. I so wish I had that chance with dad. There are a lot of retirement communities in this town. I could really make a project of it, if I had resources and transportation and teeth. I’ll think of something. I want to hear more stories, whether I record them or not, I want to hear them forever.


They’re talking about Trump again. That reminds me, I need to further advance my political self-education and look up George Wallace. The only Wallace’s I know are Marcellus and Mia. Pitiful, I know. (Points if you get that movie reference, which most of you already have.) Rachel and Lawrence O’Donnell keep bringing Wallace up, so I really should know what went down the year before I was born. I also need to read up on the Democratic National Convention in the 60’s that went down bad. Now, that Trump has announced if he doesn’t win the convention, there will be riots. Nice guy, he did say that he wouldn’t lead the riots. So, there’s that.


Felix has moved out for the season. He is living in the abandoned tree house next door that overlooks our yard and back door. Whenever I go out there, he climbs down and meows over to me. And he did come in for our nap today. That was nice. He and Chewbacca got in a bit of a tiff as to who was sleeping at my neck/chest/head. Chewy was there first, but Felix is more insistent, and ended up licking Chewbacca right full on the nose with his rough tongue. The dog turned around and went down to my legs. Score, Felix. They are such dicks to each other. Chewy tries to be a dick to Boo, because she always wants to be on my lap. But she nurfles him and boops his nose with hers and just breaks him down with affection until he is nuzzling her back and nearly purring himself and they are sharing space. The other day, Chewy just laid down on one of the cats that was with me, I can’t remember who, now. There was no hissing, no objection. He’s a little toaster oven on legs, he’s great to cuddle with.


 

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