Writing Practice 11/1/2018 – Write about cats

Write about cats…

Nobody can tell me that ghosts don’t exist. Because I’ve seen cats. Have you ever been watching a cat, just sitting in the hallway, and all of a sudden it takes off like bullet out of a gun? Ricochets of a wall, bounds down the stairs and back up, bounces over the sofa, up on top of the counter, knocks over three vases and six cups onto the floor, scrambles like hell on the marble surface, then with one leap lands on top of the chair, where she stops on a dime, goes from sixty to zero in 0.7 seconds, and proceeds to lick her paw like nothing happened. Yeah, she saw ghosts, probably two or three, that spooked her sideways and when she was done destroying the house those ghosts had seen enough, they’d gotten their entertainment for the afternoon, so they disappeared and as soon as they did your cat went back to normal.

Cats are fickle too, they like you one day and claw the hell out of your leg the next They want attention when they want it, fuck you if you’re doing something else right then, they need you to scratch behind their ears, or on their hops, or under their chin.

And you’ll do it, too, You could be ass-deep in something, like a six-nation International crisis affecting the lives of sixteen million people, threatened with nuclear winter or a Zika outbreak or a huge meteor is only one hour from hitting the ground, and you know you’ll stop and take 30 seconds to scratch or pet that kitty. You will. You know you will. I will, damnit, I know that. They’re just so damn irresistible. I think it has to do with the softness of their fur. Not like dogs, which are normally more stiff, more tough, they don’t feel good under your hands so much. That of cats is gentle, soothing to you and to them at the same time when you rub hit. Hey, maybe that’s one of the reasons we have the same word in English for a woman’s pubic region! Soft, fun to touch and both of you seem to enjoy it when done right. But – try to touch it when you’re not supposed to: look out. You’ve initiated the wrath position, it’s now up to you to eat the hell way, to defuse the situation, to somehow found out how to either get it right or get bloody trying.

Because you just don’t do that when they’re not expecting it. You [illegible] give them some advance notice, or wait for them to make the first movie. If you startle them, goddamn, they jump like they’ve been hit with an electric wand. So you don’t startle, you don’t scare, you proceed with measured amount of caution and you plan accordingly for what you want your outcome to be. Remember, too, that all the time you must have in the back of your mind an exit strategy if things get dicey. Too much excitement, and you’ll be unavailable for a long time. So beware – approach with caution. Trust, but verify. By all means, enjoy yourself, but always sleep with one eye open and be prepared to retreat ASAP. Good luck, we’re all counting on you.

Writing Practice 11/22/2017

This notebook is…

This notebook is a trap. It captures thoughts, desires, fears, imagination. it is like that box with a bright, shining light that the Ghostbusters used to use; you throw it out, it captures all the things which escape from your mind and your fingers, and it traps them inside for all eternity. And at the same time, it is a zoo – it is a display of all those things which have been captured in the wild, and showing them off to the newest generation. Opening times – all day, any time, just open up the cover and go for it.

This notebook is a cuneiform tablet. It is written in an ancient script, a language which almost nobody any longer understands. It is a place for recording history that would have otherwise been forgotten. Yet there are so few who remember how to decipher this text it is as good as forgotten.

This notebook is red-colored. The pages are blue-lined. Each page has another red barrier stripe to the left edge. The middle fold creates a margin between the columns. There is a longer space at the top of each page where the blue horizontal lines are absent, or never were, in the first place.

This notebook has pages which feel waxy. They feel as if they have been coated like playing cards, a smooth, non-paper feel. Paper feels rough to the touch. It makes a ‘shhhh’ noise when I draw my finger over it. This – this wax pretender – is not paper. It has no sound. It has no character. It has no moxie. It is soulless; it is a blank, plain, poor substitute for paper, that beautiful product derived from trees and water and love. Paper has heart. It holds – it comes from something which once lived. It breathed. It metabolized. It fended of pests and predators. It reproduced!

This – this – does not feel good. It does not feel right. It does not feel natural.

But it was cheap. And I have 100 sheets (double-sided) to get used to it.

I hope I don’t.