It didn’t start out well — I got home from playing my show at 3 AM last night to find Adolf had jumped ship, too. And so I started walking the streets around my neighborhood, smoking way too much and finding absolutely nothing. Every hour or so, I ended upo back at my place, walking the few houses around mine to see if I can hear or spot one of the little bastards. Nothing.

Adolf’s huge, and they’ve both got claws and a mean streak, but I’m not convinced that either one is made for survival outdoors. Even beyond the cars, there’re a lot of stray cats, dogs, and probably large rats in a few-block radius of my house, and past the playing, I don’t know that Adolf or Ari would know what to do if attacked.

Fortunately, Adolf must have sensed that I was giving up on him, and came mewling out from underneath my house this afternoon (yeah, even fat, he can still squeeze himself into all sorts of strange places). He was the same talkative shit that he’s been all week, and that apparently drew Ari out of whatever hole in the ground she’s been hiding in for the past seven days — I could hear her through the closed windows upstairs when I took Adolf back inside. It took a little coaxing — and I’m fairly convinced that if I hadn’t just carried Adolf to the house, Ari wouldn’t have come anywhere near me.

It seems six days is plenty of time for a cat to start to go feral.

So I left the little buggers inside, with all the windows tightly shut. No more roof privileges for them. Ever. Or at least until I’m ready for them to run away.

Tonight, they pay for running away. I’m off to the store to get shampoo.

Bath time, bitches, cause I know you cats dig it so….

South Dakota: making Alabama look progressive.

Actually, I suspect that Alabama’s lawmakers are really pissed off that they didn’t think of this first. It’s not that I live in a state that is less conservative than South Dakota — just lazier.

No exception for rape or incest? I hope none of you assholes ever has a daughter or wife or grandchild that would need one of those exceptions that you’re trying to get rid off.

People are such shitbags in the name of religion.

A US state has signed into law a bill banning most abortions, in a move aimed to force the US Supreme Court to reconsider its key ruling on the issue.

The South Dakota law - approved by the governor on Monday - makes it a crime for doctors to perform terminations.

Exceptions will be made if a woman’s life is at risk, but not in cases of rape or incest.

(via Warren)

Although I think that Ces had the funniest reaction of all.

I’m not kidding. I was racing through thoughts like an Olympic sprinter, arguing with the voices in my head about which of the clever things was going to be the title, which would be the closing gag… And of course, like a good dream, all the brilliance is gone with the daylight.

The basis of the brilliance was a list in my head of strengths and weaknesses. It’s been stuck in my head for a while now, although only rising to the surface recently (which is to say last night at 4:30 AM), that I have a real disconnect in my head between reality and desire when it comes to who and what I am. At least, I think I do; it’s either that, or maybe there’s a stronger duality inside of me than I’m willing to admit.

Taking personality tests has always been hard for me, partially because I know how they work, and therefore can do a fair job of skewing them whichever way happens to suit me at the moment. And partially becuase of the above disconnect: I have a really hard time, I think, sometimes, answering truthfully about myself — rather than answering a question with what I do, I answer with what I would ideally do. I don’t describe myself as I am, but as I wish I were.

For the most part, this isn’t really a problem, I suppose — I don’t give a fuck if some profile of me is accurate or not. I’d rather people get to know me before they start applying labels. But at least in the sense of self-examination, it makes things difficult. Trying to figure out who you are when you won’t admit the truth, even to yourself, is not the easiest of pursuits.

• So am I extroverted or introverted? Equal parts both, I think — I really do crave large crowds and attention and recognition, but I just as much demand my own time and space, alone whether surrounded by people or not. It just depends on the time of day.
• Do I think more with my head or my heart - am I a thinker or a feeler? To steal a bit from Daniel, “Which answer gets me the cookie?” Not to say that I choose between logic and gut based on reward — except, yeah, maybe I do. I value logic at times when it suits my ends, just as I validate choice by instinct for the same reason. Hmm. I’d guess, for testing purposes, I’d show up as about 60% thinker, 40% feel, but then, I may be overcompensating for what I wish were true (which is less logic, more gut).
• Intuition versus sensing — fuck, I don’t know. Ditto on the Judging/Perceiving.

Maybe I just fall outside of all the conventional wisdom. And that’s fine, too, but it sure would be nice if there were more resources for those of us that want to understand what’s going on in out heads but don’t really fit in with the average Joe.

Even on the list in my head of strengths and weaknessness, I can’t quite figure out where some of the traits go. For example: I can be manipulative (although, according to Melissa, it’s fairly transparent) — is that a strength (very useful) or a weakness? Most people would be able to figure at least that much out — but then, tops on my list straddling the line is “overly analytical.”

If you’re bored, or want way too much of a glance into my head, or just need something that’s an easy target for amusement and humor, you can click on the little thumbnail for a bigger version of my hand-drawn list of me. Or maybe just my misconceptions of me. Or maybe just handwriting for the FBI to analyze one day.

the days go by
and nothing brings me joy
the glow was strong
when i was a boy
but it’s gone
-Blackfield, GLOW

But enough about me. Let’s talk about you. What do you think about me?

The Final Days of Art Buchwald: A Visit

Art Buchwald: whether you like his writing or not, whether you like him or not, you’ve got to dig his attitude.

Keep writing, indeed.

If there were Dutch people in my neighborhood, they’d be on notice right now. As it is, I have to view everyone with suspicion and distrust, and not just because I have a tendency to see all people in the same dim light. No, one of these bastards, I suspect, has an extra cat roaming their home.

By the way, if you are said bastard, the cat’s name is Ari, and she’ll drive you insane with her talking. I guarantee it. You think it’s cute, the way she doesn’t shut up, don’t you? Yeah, most people do. But give it a while. She’s no different than any other gorgeous but essentially brainless woman. The constant noise becomes static before too long, and then background noise, finally turning into something vaguely resembling fingernails on a chalkboard, only more irritating.

It’s been a rough couple of days without her, joking messages to people who don’t even own computers aside. She’s run off, and so there’s no way of knowing what has actually happened to her — she could be dead, or taken in by the crazy elderly folk down the street, or hiding under a pile of furniture in the alley behind me, or touring with the Dave Matthews Band. And I hate not knowing. I’ve spent hours each day walking the neighborhood, looking for some sign of her (the difficulty of which is compounded by the two strays that look enough like her that it’s distinctly confusing), just wishing that I could find some finality, one way or the other. I hope that if she has been taken in to someone else’s home, it’s at least someone that needs companionship and will treat her well; even the motormouths of the world deserve to be loved.

And poor little Adolf… he’s always been the bigger of the two, and much more akin to my own introverted side. Up until last Thursday, he was fiercely independent (only coming around when company was over or when I was laying on the sofa, something I haven’t done much of since the satellite got turned off a few weeks ago), and really quiet; since Ari ran off, he follows me constantly, right under my feet, and talks enough to make Ari proud. And it suddenly occurs to me that, even though he dwarfs her in size (he’s a right portly bastard, and dense, too), Ari’s his older “sister” — she’s been around ever since he has, and he’s got to be confused. Maybe even a little sad.

And so my spring cleaning has apparently begun in earnest, without me even being aware or in control of it. I had made it through “m” in my CD collection before I got sick, and hadn’t even moved into the back nine when Ari jumped ship. I guess the universe is serving noticed that even I hadn’t realized just how stripped down my life will be soon.

I just hope Adolf isn’t still giving interviews to local news a year from now. If Ari doesn’t come home fairly soon, I’ll just have to make up a story to tell him. And learn how to speak the dark language of the feline, so I can tell it to him so he understands.

http://www.chrisbishop.com/her/

totally cribbed from an email forward:

1. As I let go of my feelings of guilt, I am in touch with my inner sociopath.
2. I have the power to channel my imagination into ever-soaring levels of suspicion and paranoia.
3. I assume full responsibility for my actions, except the ones that are someone else’s fault.
4. I no longer need to punish, deceive, or compromise myself, unless I want to stay employed.
5. In some cultures what I do would be considered normal.
6. Having control over myself is almost as good as having control over others.
7. My intuition nearly makes up for my lack of self-judgment.
8. I honor my personality flaws for without them I would have no personality at all.
9. Joan of Arc heard voices, too.
10. I am grateful that I am not as judgmental as all those censorious, self-righteous people around me.
11. I need not suffer in silence while I can still moan, whimper, and complain.
12. As I learn the innermost secrets of people around me, they reward me in many ways to keep me quiet.
13. When someone hurts me, I know that forgiveness is cheaper than a lawsuit, but not nearly as gratifying.
14. The first step is to say nice things about myself. The second, to do nice things for myself. The third, to find someone to buy me nice things.
15. As I learn to trust the universe, I no longer need to carry a gun.
16. All of me is beautiful, even the ugly, stupid, and disgusting parts.
17. I am at one with my duality.
18. Blessed are the flexible, for they can tie themselves into knots.
19. Only a lack of imagination saves me from immobilizing myself with imaginary fears.
20. I will strive to live each day as if it were my 50th birthday.
21. Today I will gladly share my experience and advice, for there are no sweeter words than “I told you so!”
22. False hope is better than no hope at all.
23. A good scapegoat is almost as good as a solution.
24. Who can I blame for my problems? Just give me a minute…. I’ll find someone.
25. Why should I waste my time reliving the past when I can spend it worrying about the future?
26. The complete lack of evidence is the surest sign that the conspiracy is working.
27. Becoming aware of my character defects leads me naturally to the next step of blaming my parents.
28. To have a successful relationship, I must learn to make it look like I’m giving as much as I’m getting.
29. I am willing to make the mistakes if someone else is willing to learn from them.
30. Before I criticize a man, I walk a mile in his shoes. That way, if he gets angry, he’s a mile away and barefoot.

Everyone should get the bird flu. It’s a nice way to catch up on time that you’ve not been spending with your bed, and your borrowed DVDs of season two of 24.

Fortunately, this is actually a mild version of the flu — if it were avian, it would be a hummingbird, or maybe a canary. Still not a whole lot of fun, but much better than it was last year. I can actually move around every now and then, and I can bear the light of the computer screen.

Life should resume it’s normal course tomorrow. I’m trying to look at this as a good way to close out February. Thank goodness that I only do inventory on a quarterly basis.

Random quick notes:

• I am dying. Same flu, same time, different year. At least I’m not trying to smoke through this one.
• A little ballet over the weekend is certainly a different form of entertainment. Christiana did really well — I’m no ballet aficianado, but I know dancing and music when I see it. It’s always nice to see artists with true passion, and there were at least a few up on that stage this weekend.
• Ready for contact lenses again. Glasses suck, especially when it’s raining, or when I’m bartending.

Back to bed now.