make me

make me get outta bed

Getting up last night for work turned out to be the same as getting up was last year, this year. I felt simply unwilling to push the blankets away and step into the cold unheated air. I thought what with my incredible anti-depressive mentality things would be different this year, but they weren’t. The logistics are always painful. Once I got outta bed and put my malt-o-meal on the stove and took my meds with leftover cadillac (the chocolate residue on the bottom churned back into the mix with some flexible wrist action), I could breathe again. The cats were all crying for food and I must provide. Otherwise it will be a claw to the neck when you least suspect.  Life is demanding as always. And faith is still there, waiting to be called upon, to get you through.

K. #6099 CIM

chalk it off

chalk it off as existential slowburn -ii

i dont know how to write this. i want to think before i write, but i cannot. i want to treat this
with the attention it requires. the gravity it inspires. the sensitivity it needs. i am even now
holding back from trying to rush to disagree with you on some of your points you made,
because i do feel differently, yes, and thats okay, yes. however, i cannot disagree with your
overall vision. because this is also what i see. atleast i think our visions of us are pretty
much alike. it doesnt matter if they are or they aren’t, though. i truly believe that.

god i feel like im in church all of a sudden. because my spirit is aching. i feel my spirit through
my body in that powerful way like i did on the best sundays in the earliest 1980s, when my family
was a young family, the 4 of us were tight, we had a big old queene anne victorian to tear around
in, a big old lawn wrapping around her, and a little peke-a-poo dog named buttons. its fur was like
the worst case of jerry curls when she was just a pup. my moms radiant joyfulness at having
all of us together singing hymns on sunday, well, it just filled us up, also. but my dad wasnt
really into it. so the kids werent either. so looking back its an aching kind of spirit i felt

journal entry

Journal # 09.20.16

Another night followed another day followed another, the rails scraped clean by braking, the trains screaming down the line. Somehow I killed my depression and went on living lightly. Then it came back hard bearing down and I jumped out of the way. What do you want with my life? I am not rich. I am not pure. I am not decent. I am convoluted and curse a lot. I eat Doritos for breakfast. I talk to cats like they are my children. I am a favorite scapegoat. An object of attraction. A third rail. Of all the people in the world…

must be
you want
what you cannot have

on washing a cat

When i picked up my cat ‘Mouse’ and took him to the tub with the bucket for washing, the whole organism fought me from the musco-skeletal channel, buttressing into an indefensible arch. It started in the mind of the cat, triggered the moment we crossed the divide of hallway and washroom, and before any water even touched the body. Dogs at this point begin to paddle their wrists instinctively.

The cats are no stranger to my washing them, and always appear more content afterwards, when dry and clean, and sleep soundly without the pests. And yet the fight comes up again every time we go to wash.

See how we fight both the good and the bad? Someone wants to help us, they offer a way out of our problems, and our whole organism reacts against the change, almost as though we believe they would hurt us.  Takes a funny resolve sometimes to do that which will be good for the health.

no flowers

no flowers but peaceful anyway

i met myrtle rhymes with turtle where the flowers got wiped out by the heat wave. my cats followed me there, several cracks in the pavement away from home. tomcat stayed home to guard the house. i always tell him ‘guard the house’ on my way out. he grunts. not sure he wants the job but he sure handles it and we’ve never had a break-in.


world war two in color’s no different from world war two in black in white or world war two with butter on toast. or world war two sandwiched between world war one and three. or world war two on skis. and there is footage! Russians blazing down the slopes of the Eastern Front. on skis. Germans surrender. on knees.

Tomcat on watch

myrtle is from North Dakota and im from New Hampshire and we know cruel winters. we just met and we get along fine. just after dawn and talkin up a storm, a storm of words. i wonder if everyone got out of their houses at dawn and followed the cracks aimlessly into one another…

Tomcat aka Rolly Polly

idea factories and surge protectors

Incredible people are dying, some are being born, and I have to move my car across the street so I don’t get a parking ticket. What else is new. I have placed fans strategically around my living room because the circulation seems to give my Idea Factory a run. I mean my head. Like I am walking while sitting still, the air pushing around. One of my cats is sleeping on the surge protector, perhaps toward the same purpose, though he may get more than he bargained for.