Riding on the cat tails of his recent success in catching a little mouse in our apartment our cat Mocha is now holding weekend seminars in our storage closet intended to teach his fellow cats and other interested parties how to succeed in the exciting world of mousing and competitive catting.
I told him this wouldn’t work and I am eating my words as he is now booked well into July. This is crazy. He has no formal training or licence. I am afraid this is all gone to his head and its already costing me money. He has had business cards made , a website designed and has hired a couple of neighborhood cats and my own daughter to assist him, all with my credit card!
He says not to worry “baby”, yes he called me baby!
He said that once his school gets going he will be making the “big bucks”and that he’ll be so successful that he will be able to pay me back with “a gazillion percent interest” so that I never will have to work again. Seriously, he told me this.
I am a time traveler. I travel in a linear fashion, straight ahead and very slowly but travel I do and so do you…
I know I look young for my age. It must be in my genes or something. That’s how I have been able to pass myself off as a ridiculously youthful and right-on looking middle-aged woman. I have seen a lot of history, hell, I’ve been in a lot of history. Most of it has been untold until now for obvious reasons of International security. The truth has been hidden all these years. Only now has the various governmental agencies given me permission to tell the tale.
Reader discretion is advised:
My career as an insanely popular and charismatic daredevil and Queen of the Segovian Circus started out ordinarily enough. My dog Mr. Fluffy happened to be a speedboat driver for the International trade unionists union in the Segovia province of Spain. He mentioned they needed a show girl for the aquatic circus there. I jumped at the chance to show my moves and show them I did.
I wowed the crowds every Saturday afternoon performing gymnastics and dancing atop a shiny speed boat driven by my faithful dog and now manager Mr. Fluffy. Eventually my fabulous baton twirling, amazing flexibility and obvious flair for fashion garnered me the notice of trade newspapers and famous people all over Europe. I received countless fan letters, tokens of affection and numerous marriage proposals.
I settled for Clive. The lead zookeeper for the circus. Clive seemed mild mannered at first. He lured me in with his fondness for animals and his keen intellect. We lived in a tent by the river. There I make “delicious” vegan meals and pots of strong coffee for him and the animals; a lion and a lamb.
It wasn’t until the lion, who happened to be a double agent for the CIA, asked me for my help that my life took a strange turn.
It turns out that Clive wasn’t really a worker in the circus he too was an agent a secret triple agent, so secret no one knew who he worked for. The lamb bought me a bus ticket for Las Vegas and handed me twenty bucks, get out while you can and don’t come baaaack it said.
I made it to Vegas, a wide eyed country girl with a dream to make it big in Sin City. The lion was waiting for me. He told me he had a job for me with great pay and travel.
If I have learned anything in my long life it is to suspect “the hard sell” especially from a someone from the government dressed up in an animal costume. I bought his jive and before you know it I had been enlisted in the CIA as a super secret inter dimensional and International Spy.
I met with a top scientist. Doctor Zulu. He had just “been released from his duties ” from the Miskationic University and had some “ideas” he was working on and asked if I could “help out”
I reluctantly agreed…
The first few times didn’t go too well.
but before you know it Doctor Zulu had me higher than a kite and tripping the light fantastic!
Somehow the brilliant doctor had figured out a way to send me forward and backward in time using everyday items that can be found in any home or office. And from then on my unbelievable exploits were only covered by comic books under the guise of fiction.
I became the foremost expert in time traveling espionage, spy gamery and tomfoolery. They called me the Mata Hari of time travel. I would have been a celebrity had I not had to keep my identity secret.
I met and interacted in the lives of countless people famous and infamous through many important times and places. Much of it unrecognizable to anyone here on this timeline. But I did make quite an impact.
Now I have retired. Left to fend for myself in an insane world that makes no sense. A world we time travelers have helped create. Imagine the Butterfly effect multiplied by infinity.
Sorry about that. We have formed an alliance, the ones that have remained here. So far its just the lion and I but we hope to recruit followers. We are devoted to setting things straight here. We especially feel bad about this world, this particular timeline, I don’t have to tell you but this is the worst, by far.
Please email me with any strange goings-on or sudden changes to your reality and I will try to send someone out when we can.
What they didn’t say was that Mocha is no ordinary cat, not by any means.
Never have I seen a kitten jump so high, or run so fast. Never have I encountered such a keen intellect in a cat his age. He is only three months old but reads at a sixth grade level.
He is witty and charming but has a bit of a temper. And whatever you do, don’t trust him with your marbles as he is bound to steal them and put them in your shoes for you to discover later.
I don’t know who his mother was exactly. The adoption agency won’t tell me. I have a feeling she was born of noble blood and so was Mocha by the size of his ego and of his bank account. I didn’t know that kittens came with their own stock portfolio’s but apparently this one does. Once we took him home he immediately got on the phone and called his broker and then his accountant. I didn’t know cats had accountants.
I have a feeling that Mocha is money obsessed and it’s not good for him. He is a bit artificial and frankly snobby with the other cats that have come by and welcomed him to the neighborhood.
And he keeps buying things! Like fancy pet furniture and cases of canned Mackerel. I don’t know where to put it all.
He goes down everyday to Starbucks and gets himself the Vente size Java Chip at Starbucks, he loves it there. And they love him! They have named a drink after him, just shows how persuasive he is!
In fact he is paying me to write this fascinating and favorable post about him. Money does talk and since I am temporarily unemployed the money comes in handy. So watch for more stories about his antics. Maybe next time we can find out how he got such a silly name.
Adventures in Mocha
The voodoo priest and all his powders were as nothing compared to espresso, cappuccino, and mocha, which are stronger than all the religions of the world combined, and perhaps stronger than the human soul itself.
The modern mocha is a bittersweet concoction of imperialism, genocide, invention, and consumerism served with whipped cream on top
In the interest of science I am putting together a team of elite experts and chartering an expedition to the jungles of Borneo to seek the all illusive psychedelic toads that are rumored to live there.
A film crew will be documenting the events…
We will be led by Doctor Major Hector Cortez Santa Ana Rodriguez Rodriquez. He is hands down the foremost expert on those trippy toads of legend.
He has sought these elusive toads for over seven years close and believes he is about to hit paydirt.
That is why we hired the film crew and that is why I personally loaned the Doctor Major 50 bucks of my own money for this very important and possibly dangerous scientific event.
The Doctor Major first became interested in the idea of Psychedelic Toads after reading a slender book smuggled to him by a fellow inmate at The Rocky Butte correctional facility in Portland Oregon in 1983. It was entitled Bufo alvarius, the Psychedelic Toad of the Sonoran Desert.
The Dr Major was instantly fascinated. The book explained how to find the toad in dark damp caves, how to extract the venom and how to prepare it for smoking.
The Doctor Major was so fascinated by this idea that he after his release he went immediately to the Sonoran Desert in Arizona where he met two teenage boys at the 7 eleven in Gilbert. They were riding a mule and eating jelly donuts. They told him that the Sonoran toads were “dude, so totally last year” and if he really wanted to find “the real shit” he should go see the Toads of Borneo. Ever the optimist The Dr hopped the first barge to Borneo where he met a man, an old Indian who was drinking in the only decent bar in the town of Putatan near the edge of the jungle. The man was wearing a loincloth and speaking in a language The Doctor Major could not understand but that or because of it the two immediately had an understanding that transcended all words and all logic whatsoever. They decided to join forces and descended into the dark jungle.
There they spent seven grueling years fighting off bouts of malaria and godless heathen tribes who wanted to eat them. They searched deep caves and high into the mountains. The jungles beat the hell out if them but this made the Doctor Major even hungrier for a taste of the toads. The years had not been so kind to the old Indian who had died six years previously but this had gone unnoticed until recently by the Dr Major who had thought the Indian old and lazy and hadn’t noticed he was decomposing.
Obviously the Doctor Major was distraught. That is when he contacted me and told me his story. Of course I was compelled to help.
Together we have raised almost 2,000 dollars through a series of Tupperware parties and by selling The Doctor Major’s high grade marijuana.
The day we put out the ads we were swamped with offers to go along. We have picked what we have deemed the best ones.
The mate is a mighty sailing man, The skipper seems brave and sure. He tells me it will only take three hours to get there, yes–a three hour tour, a three hour tour.
I will be writing an epic novel based on the adventures of the Doctor Major and his brave crew if they are successful and survive the journey.
I, of course reluctantly have to stay behind due to my job as president of Shenanigans University. I will however be hiring an assistant who will be my eyes and ears on the mission. I will be accepting applications all week.
(Hint: I am NOT above bribery)
Please send your resumes (and bribes) to my secretary.
Here we are in a dusty under used cherry paneled office with skylights. I am looking around for something in here and I really don’t know what it will be until I find it. MM hands me a book just out of the blue.
It is a small concise edition of the very famous and widely popular Dictionary of Finance and Investment Terms by John Downes and Jordan Elliot Goodman. YES! That one. This book holds really no sentimental value to me, it is just here, a rarely used item from my distant past but yet this book compels me to open it and open it now..I know you are compelled too and want me to open it and I do and…immediately a feeling overcomes me: I feel funny; not unwell funny but haha funny and decide to make fun of this funny book that helps funny people in a hilarious world indeed.
Random can be fun as well so I decide to take random words out of this book and write a story using each and every word. This can sometimes get the creative juices flowing and what better book, what better time? It is a Saturday and I am the process of doing absolutely nothing; this is one of my favorites things not to do!
The first word is boring and typical but in the skilled hands of a good writer could be twisted and used to immense success; that is your standard RATE OF INFLATION. This is just what it states…the rate at which something inflates, as in…The Economy…some people’s egos or the number of weeds in my garden. I remember inflation from my youth…too much of it is like cholesterol, it clogs the arteries…this is NOT fun.
…so onward to the next word, HEDGE. It makes me think of The British and World War II for some reason. Hedgerows are nice aren’t they? Perhaps I could write a story about a big fat flower bush. I really don’t have enough words for any viable ideas so I press on and open the book to a new and random page…oh lovely page 378…and the word is SHARK REPELLENT! Oh what luck! This is a good word. Shark repellent in the finance business is a measure taken by a corporation to discourage unwanted takeover attempts, never to be outdone by The SHARK WATCHER (it is on the same page and I saw it and had to use it. THAT is the name of , of course, a firm specializing in the early detection of takeover activities…sounds like a war and a war of the worst kind; war with sharks in it!
I am not making this up…the next word is ASSET COVERAGE. There could be a lot to say here. I suppose you should use your imaginations on that…suffice to say…it’s something we all have to do from time to time and in the world of finance it has to do with preferred stock and equity positions.
I know you are thinking where is she going with this? I am wondering that myself, I suppose we will all have to wait and see what happens next.
My imagination starts to swirl with various ridiculous images and colors..a totally natural high brought about by the ambrosia of words mixed with the intrigue of high finance. My fingers tremble with excitement…could possibly be next?!
And then suddenly the room starts to spin and I black out– apparently the experience was just too much for me and I woke up several hours later with a slamming headache… 😉
Apparently my bubble burst and invariably whatever goes up…must come down . It’s just like that with that damn market...
What a ride. I don’t have to tell you that I am laying off that stuff for a while….
Have a fantastic day!
I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.” ― Oscar Wilde
Have you ever had a behemoth in your life? Did the elephant in the room ever come sit on you? Has there ever been a big thing that plopped down on you and grabbed you and now is sucking the light out of your life or in this case your yard…
I moved into this house 13 years ago. Back then it was quite a different place, besides of being denied of my whimsical vibes and general weirdness, the house and surrounding yard lacked the appropriate plant and animal life. The backyard lies on a double lot. In the far west back are big bushes of the still unknown variety. A very tall pine tree stood in the center like a behemoth. This tree was too big for the yard and it’s influence was greatly felt. The tree rendered 90 % of the yard dark and pine needly, what little grass that grew was patchy and only grew to shaggy and straggly near the outer parameters of the yard—the only place the sun was able to shine. This was where the tallest of the strongest weeds grew. They stood like sentinels seeming to be guarding the yard from interlopers. This yard had been neglected for some time. There was nothing; no odd wildflower sprouting up, no old forgotten rosebush in the corner overgrown with weeds. Nothing to show that someone who loved flowers was once there. I have a fondness for old neglected gardens, finding the traces and leftovers of a plants that at one time were planted there by someone and cared for and enjoyed them. To me it sort of feels like walking back through time. And I try how to image how the place once looked. To me gardens have always felt like the person who once loved them.
It has always been a fantasy of mine to move into a place with a yard like that. Where I would have the joy of discovery of finding and resurrecting once overlooked wonderfulness. an opportunity to nurse it back to former glory with equal parts love, devotion and hard work.
Well this yard had none of that; no hidden charm or gem. Just pine needles, grass and a few weeds and an overgrown hedge.
There was nothing to save and resurrect because there was nothing there. The tree took in all the life-giving light for itself and didn’t share. Nothing was left.
I tried to make the best of it. I have always been a gardener at heart. I have this need to be surrounded by plants. I probably got this trait from my mother who lived and breathed plants too. My childhood was filled with memories of the outdoors; of soft green grass, and miniature roses, big green trees with arching limbs, blue skies with big puffy clouds, a chorus of birds chirping and singing away happily. To me nature has also been magical and gardens a way for us mere mortals to create a bit of our own magic.
I much as I love trees I knew that if that if that behemoth didn’t leave we would never have a decent backyard, besides it was dropping needles like crazy, probably not a good sign. We knew what had to be done. We got three bids and went with the lowest one and the behemoth was gone 3 days later.
Once the behemoth was gone, the yard was instantly transformed. It was if summer had finally come after a long cold lonely winter. My mind starting whirling with ideas on what to do next. I picked a corner, started digging and never looked back.
I wanted this place to become an extension of me– “my little kingdom” and I spent hours and hours working…sometimes 6 or 8 hours a stretch with no break out there digging in the mud, planting, raking, pruning, mowing. digging, lots of digging…
I really enjoyed the work which surprised me. I was never good at sports or anything physical but I enjoyed this gardener’s workout. (it’s not as easy as it may look)
Over the years, a little this and some more that. I couldn’t afford a bunch of plants at once, so I would add little bits here and there; more and more each year. I saved many seeds and learned to propagate, adding more and more plants. As time went on the yard looked better and better. I started to feel good about this and started to feel good about myself.
I didn’t much feel good about myself back then so this was a really good thing. I lacked self-confidence and wasn’t too sure of myself. I was shy ( I still am) this simple act of working hard, achieving a wonderful result that others and yourself can enjoy is absolutely wonderful. It makes a person such as myself feel all warm and toasty inside. This gave me a dose of confidence and more importantly made me realize the other behemoth in my life. The one’s who mighty shadow I was standing in and to an extent still do
This huge dominating force is not a tree, but it has taken root in me–planted there a long time ago. This behemoth is called fear. Unlike a tree I can’t just hire someone to come cut it down. But living in its shadow has rendered me a late bloomer I am afraid to say. I am also afraid to say it still stands but it is no longer a behemoth; just a big weed now. I will probably always struggle with fear to some extent. I highly doubt that I am the only one…but, I have cut it down to size and now my own personal garden in thriving in the light and is home to thousands of bright happy things.
Did you ever have a behemoth in your life? What was it and how did you overcome it?
“People where you live,” the little prince said, “grow five thousand roses in one garden… yet they don’t find what they’re looking for…
“They don’t find it,” I answered.
“And yet what they’re looking for could be found in a single rose, or a little water…”
“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked. “Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.” “How do you know I’m mad?” said Alice. “You must be,” said the Cat, or you wouldn’t have come here.” ― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
The following post holds no significance whatsoever. It wasn’t designed to make you think or question anything. It promises nothing. It exists solely to make no sense at all so…if you enjoy a little nonsense now and again
If this sort of thing isn’t your thing and you are looking for some deep philosophical discussion you will not find it here, not today anyway.Check out the archives; pick out a subject from the top of the front page and dig right in. You may be surprised.
and so for those of you that are staying: THANK YOU.
I have received countless letters and emails over these last half-dozen months asking me about my famous cat Mario–inquiring about his adventures. Are there are any new loves in his life? Are there any upcoming movies he’ll be in or new albums he will be recording? Questions on his stance on the political issues of the day, you know, common stuff… he is quite the popular cat. This is not surprising, but what it surprising is that many of the letters have been directed to myself personally; asking what it feels like to live with a celebrity such as he.
Sure there are the fans, the crowds wherever he goes. Forget about going to a restaurant or to a club, he gets swamped with paparazzi and multitudes of hangers on. All this fame isn’t easy. It’s endless phone calls from dignitaries and captains of industry, the top people in science and medicine and of course, the well-known patrons of the arts. We have been so busy trying to keep up with all the correspondence we hired a staff of 6 people and one really smart squirrel to handle it all.
Despite Mario’s privileged upbringing and consequent fame Mario has stayed amazingly down to earth. He enjoys the simple things in life; like sunsets and long walks on the beach, poetry and napping.
You can just feel his charisma can’t you!. His appeal reaches through the screen and grabs you, just like that. I know. What goes through a mind like that?! Look at him here.., You can tell from his picture….those deep penetrating intellectual eyes. He is poetry in slow motion–see how he stalked, hunted down and overran this common cardboard box.
Mario has claimed it for his own and has been napping in it ever since. What prowess…
I like to call him lovey boy in front of MM just to annoy him, Mario purrs extra loud and we get a great laugh out of this. That and card games. I don’t know if it’s well known but Mario was quite the card shark in his day. He played the Vegas circuit many times. He once even was kicked out of -the Bellagio for card counting. It was then he decided to never to gamble again and devote is free time to pursue a career in film and music. Much to his credit he has not gambled since and all he ever plays for now are cat treats.
Although Mario has constant demands placed on him because of his popularity he still finds time for this napping; devoting at least 19 hours a day to this his most favorite of hobbies. But the center of his universe remains his food dish and there I suspect it will remain.
One would think that living with a celebrity cat would be more exciting. I have been holding out hopes that some of Mario’s famous friends like George Clooney or Oprah would drop by for a visit…
…but so far he hasn’t been up for visitors. He amuses himself by following me around while I clean the house, do the laundry and make dinner. This is not the glamorous life I was promised…
Don’t get me wrong. Its not like we don’t have good times because we do, I mean he is not famous for nothing. He is quite the entertainer and what a master of the art of conversation. He has perfected what we call around here: The Silent Mew. It is timeless and it is amazing, oh what form he has. He is suave and graceful and lots of fun to be around.
He can be fussy and whiny and also seemingly aloof and then instantly demanding. He is a handful alright, but he is my cat and he’s alright with me.
“In ancient times cats were worshiped as gods; they have not forgotten this.” ― Terry Pratchett
I must confess that I have a strong streak of justice running through me coupled with some liberal leanings and a twist of rebellion. I guess I’m just wired that way and at times I am strangely compelled to engage in highly compassionate acts. I am also compelled to “give it to the man” from time to time, so when these pastimes collide, I reach a sort of nirvana that can stay with me for weeks.
Keeping this in mind, I know it will be of no surprise to you that I have recently joined the occupy movement. Well not actually the occupy movement per se… frankly all those occupyists scare me a bit but they do inspire me. I have taken it upon myself to engage in my own impromptu occupation.
Remember those 1% people, those horrible rich people; the ones who are responsible for all the evil in the world? Those nameless, faceless masses of corporate conglomeration…
I think they need to be sent a lesson that we the 99% are not taking it anymore and that we are fighting back until the playing field is more level. And we, well, I will be occupying a symbol of their opulence and greed… and what better place to occupy that than the penthouse suite of the Hilton?
I know you are thinking this plan may be a wee bit on the radical side. I agree but I cannot see any other way to bring attention to my, our cause. I feel that I could become an inspiration to all the overworked and overlooked huddled masses yearning to breathe free. (Isn’t America great!)
I will have to make the sacrifice and live among those nasty one percenters and I will do so until all my comrades on the street, all the neglected, the poor, the tired and rejected and the rest of humanity (plus some select cats) get to live in the same luxury as we Hilton dwellers.
I will point out at this point that I am willing to make further sacrifices and I am an easy sell-out and not above blatant bribery. Any nicer hotel in the Portland area will do. (imagine the great publicity this hotel would get…hint, hint)
I’m planning on staging a sort of John Lennonish bed-in with signs and reporters minus the Ono (sorry Yoko) and Amsterdam (sorry me) to protest all the unfairness in the world. I will sing songs of love and peace and do it all in my P.J’s and take naps on the side. (I hear the beds are super comfy)
Of course it won’t be easy. I will have to live off room service and will have to find somewhere to go each day while my suite is being cleaned. I suppose I will have to use the spa and the pool and watch some pay per view movies…I am prepared for these eventual sacrifices..very prepared.
My list of demands are as follows:
24 hour room service
Maid service with nightly tuck down and Andes mints on my pillow.
A nice white terry plush robe.
Ritzy rich people stuff from the gift shop
Giant fruit baskets and exotic root beers from all over he world
A wireless connection
A superb view of the city
Free coffee and baby soaps
Decedent chocolate desserts
Free domestic calls
And most importantly; a breakfast buffet with a yummy omelet station……No I mean equality for all and omelets too!
Unlike other protests and protestors, there will be no drum circle, or mobs of angry people blocking the street. There will be a minimum of noise, perhaps some light jazz or classical music playing in the background. There will be no damage inflicted anywhere or mess to clean up; just a few damp towels, empty bottles of bubble bath and the traces of many chocloate desserts left behind.
I do not think I am being unreasonable here. It will be a win-win situation for us all.
Frankly and honestly…At this point I don’t care if it’s a Motel 6 with a private bath and a vending machine outside the door. What really matters is the principle of the thing.
I need a vacation..I mean, we the people need a vaction and equality too and all that good stuff.
And so this very weekend I will showing up at the Hilton, bags in hand, ready for my protest. You may join my protest..just show up at the nicest hotel in town with your demands..tell them Strawberryindigo sent you and have your visa card ready…
I don’t have a lot going on right now so I have become my cat’s agent. It’s not what you think, I am not crazy or anything…it was his idea. He’s a very ambitious cat, a real go getter. It’s no wonder he’s famous here locally. And I guess it’s no wonder that his ambitions are leading him to bigger and better things.
He has spoken to me of his plans, well meowed them to me on many occasions, usually late at night after too much cat nip. He has dreams, that’s for sure but who doesn’t? I want to be a writer someday. My cat wants to be a star of stage and screen. I’m sure you have hopes and dreams too, so I know you understand that we sensitive artist types need to follow our dreams and thus I have not only encouraged him, I have become his agent.
A big part of this important and highly coveted job is the ability to think outside of the box, come up with excellent ideas and have the where-with-all to follow through. I pride myself on my common sense and intellect which I think makes me the perfect sort to promote an animal act.
9 Lives has Morris the cat who the company touts as the most famous cat in the world, that may be true for now but I think that Morris is all washed up, he’s out of date, I mean how old can a cat get? And those meow mix cats, all that constant mewing….cat’s don’t really do that.
What we need is a more realistic, more with-it , a now kind of cat. A cat for today. A spokescat that truly speaks to today’s generation.
That’s where Mario comes in. He and I both agree that he would be the purrfect choice to be the “The New Face of Friskies”
I know many of you have already been introduced to Mario, I also know a great many of you have joined his fan club and some of you have even attended a few of his lectures. So I don’t need to remind you of his magnetic presence, engaging personality, sharp wit and striking good looks. I mean who would be better for this?
“He certainly LOVES his Friskies and he eats quite a lot of it. That is why is he has a shiny and luxurious coatand such beautiful bright eyes.”
Now it’s up to me to convince The Friskies Corporation.
Realistically, I don’t see much of a problem there. That is more than apparent. Once the executives at Friskies meet with Mario they will be putty in his paws. He will be writing his own check and you can take that to the bank. He is bound for greatness and really there’s nothing stopping him….
…and this is only the beginning. First it will be commercials, then guest spots on popular TV shows, then maybe a little off Broadway and a few feature films and before you know it, he’ll be winning Oscars and I’ll be sitting at home like a bump on a log watching it all on the small screen and eating a frozen dinner all by myself while he lives the good life in Hollywood.
We’ve had long talks about this very thing. I am afraid the bright lights of “The Big City” will lure him away and change him forever. Maybe he’ll lose himself in a dark downward spiral of drugs and corruption. Maybe he’ll run with a fast crowd who’ll only want him for his fame and lifetime supply of Friskies (Seafood Sensations flavor, please)
He assures me this won’t happen and he does seem to have a good head on his shoulders, he is the smartest one in the house. I guess I can’t hold him back. I will miss the little guy but I know that someone who is that special cannot be kept back home on the farm….
…and so when I’m at home in a tattered old bathrobe watching The Oscars I’ll be cheering him on and I know you will too…he’s that kind of cat.
I have always sought to create another world. A fantastic place of harmony and enchantment where dreams come alive.
Time stands still in the multiverse of my imagination. Colors deepen and take on a vivid hue. All is one and right and the atmosphere is steeped in loving peace and understanding. A wondrous a place comes into view. I have been here before and every time I visit it becomes more beautiful.
It is a place where
vines of crimson and gold grow over ancient walls. Ruins of stone spires shoot crazily out of a dense forest of deep green. The sun is bright and warm and has just begun to fill the sky. I take in a deep breath of the cool breeze coming from the west. The air holds the promise of the day. It is a bright spring morning filled with fresh wonder.
Rolling hills of emerald, soft and mossy give way to sweet-smelling apple orchards sprinkled with tiny white blossoms. The warm spring rain tickles my eyelids and caresses my face.
I walk down a slate path into a soft misty velvet wood.. Sunbeams dance and play with shadows in the whispering breeze. Scarlet tipped hummingbirds dart through the leaves of the trees drinking in the honeysuckle nectar of the tall pineapple sage.
I delight in the riotous songs of a forest full of life. Flowers of a million hues dot the landscape. Tiny white butterflies flutter and frolic among them. Visiting each one in a true perfection of form.
The sun rises high in the sky of deep cerulean and cotton white. I lie in the grass and gaze up in wonderment, not a care in the world….My mind begins to wander and the hours drift away…in senseless abandon… and dream a dream inside a dream….
Let’s set the scene: Here I am tapping away on my laptop, tip tap hunt peck yak yak and then…..Blackout. Everything goes dark and I am left sitting by laptop light. I light a few scented candles and continue my tapping..just in mid tap I hear a muffled guffaw followed by a high-pitched squeal…
I run to the open window and peer out, and what do my wondering eyes find?
Two lone figures in dark hoodies setting the bus stop on fire….well not the bus stop, exactly, but a pile of trash next to the bus stop. They whooped and hollered and pranced around the tiny fire, feeding it bits of trash to keep it going in the dark breeze. I had to laugh as one of them started to do a little dance.
This is the kind of incident typical of my crazy neighborhood, during a blackout, really anytime. I enjoy these times as best I can and I try to see the lighter side of whatever life throws my way. This time it is two ghouls with a fire.
Soon I grow restless and decide to drum up some of my own fun in the dark…I retreat to the backyard and into the garden. I find comfort here in the dark, in the garden at night.
The moon is full and bright tonight. It hangs high above me. Ripples and streams of of indigo clouds drift past. I take a deep breath and drink it all in….
The screams of the ghouls have died away and are replaced with nothing. A silence that is totally remarkable in its unremarkableness. I savor this silence. My mind starts to wander as I drift through the tall cool grass.
And it makes me wonder…As a Led Zep tune fills the night air. How fleeting silence can be..it was then the rain came on and picked up like a riot. I stood under it and just soaked it up..A fool in the rain. I stood there a few minutes more, at first feeling quite proud of my new-found “eccentricity” and then as the soaking continued I really started feeling the fool. I sloshed inside before anyone could notice…
My thoughts returned to my two “friends” the hooded ghouls and their what became of their little fire. I smiled as I thought of the cloudburst raining on their parade. I looked out the window once more and found that the ghouls were long gone, just a pile of wet debris left behind told the tale.
Just as well..One fool in the rain is enough, add to ghouls and now there’s three fools in the rain….and how was your night?
I saw a scene today. It was a small moment, a common everyday boring kind of moment but it changed me and the way I will view people and life in general from now on.
The woman down the street, my neighbor and “Nemesis”, Mrs. Wheatgrass. A person I have written of before. A neurotic, stressed out person who reminds me of sun-baked straw. If you have not yet heard of Mrs. Wheatgrass, you will. She is a story and a half unto herself.
Today though I saw Mrs. Wheatgrass in a different light…
A pest control truck in the neighborhood is a dreaded sight indeed and when I saw the sight earlier today, I felt a small panic. YIKES! Pests! The bright green truck, with the environmental message on the side looked nice, and responsibly green and expensive. It was parked in front of the Wheatgrass house.
I laughed a little laugh as I imagined high-strung and snooty Mrs. Wheatgrass on a chair screaming down at a mouse. Or worse.
..And speak of the Devil…there she was. She was walking the pest guy to his pest truck. She did not look happy. She looked majorly stressed out. Her straw-colored hair was practically standing on end as she listened to the pest guy talk. He kept pointing to her roof and every time he did she looked sicker and sicker.
By the time he got to the shoulder shrugging portion at the end, she appeared frantically frazzled. For a moment I felt glee. A little part of me felt happy at her misfortune. I hate to admit it but that is what happened.
It didn’t feel right and as I said it lasted but a moment but that was enough. I started to think back…where had we gone wrong? I remember when we first spied each other, the day she moved in 6 years ago. It was like a scene out of a spaghetti western, I could swear I heard the music genius of Ennio Morricone in the background. She walked past and we just stared at each other, not a word was uttered. We just stared.
I guess I should have welcomed her to the neighborhood. I really have no excuse. I could say that I suffer from social phobia or that it’s not wise to talk to strangers; both are true but honestly, I think it was because of the way she looked at me. She made me feel uncomfortable standing on my own front porch. Her thin lips curled up in a sneer. I couldn’t help but feel that I had wronged her in some way.
We eventually spoke and over the years and have had some strange conversations. She likes to approach me with her odd and neurotic household problems and I think she expects me to have all the answers.
When I don’t have the insight she wants she turns on me and a whole new round of snubs and snide remarks begin. I know this sounds paranoid, but once in a while I get these strange looks from her family. I think she talks about me to them, I just get these vibes.
All this makes me feel bad. I don’t want to be her friend. I am Strawberryindgo, she is Mrs. Wheatgrass. We have nothing in common…..I do however hate the mean looks she gives me. I have feelings.
It’s easy to be nice to someone who likes you….on the other hand…it’s not difficult at all to hate someone back who hates you first. It’s natural, its human nature. I tried to justify how I felt.
Why should I care if she has something nesting in her roof? So what? If her roof is falling apart and I know she needs a new one and can’t afford it. She has never been nice to me and makes snide remarks to me whenever she can.
I know if she saw me in the same situation as she is now, she would have no sympathy for me. I know she would use the occasion to come over and grill me, she is that type. It seems more and more people these days are that type. It’s like they are waiting for an excuse to “take it out on someone else.” They take pleasure in others misfortune and feed on negativity. I don’t want to be like them. I refuse to be like them!
It was at that moment I realised that I must be stronger than any negativity that Mrs. Wheatgrass or anyone else could throw at me. Maybe if I look deep inside myself I can find some sympathy for one such as she although she has none for me.
Niceness begets niceness and hatred begets hatred. It is difficult to turn the tide, but now I see the importance in trying. If I can’t get along with my bitchy neighbor, who can get along in this world?
Although she doesn’t know it, Mrs. Wheatgrass taught me a lesson today. I don’t think I could actually ever “love” her nor do I think I could even like her, she is after all, Mrs. Wheatgrass. But I will try my damnest…..
….and so this brings me to a quote by “Tricky Dick” and how fitting….
“Always remember, others may hate you, but those who hate you don’t win unless you hate them. And then you destroy yourself.”
Goodbye summer. It was nice to get to know you during the time we had together. I always look forward to your visits and I’m reluctant to let you go. It has always been that way with us. You blowing into town and me eagerly anticipating your arrival. We have such a short time together and then you are gone just like that. I am left alone by the telephone and I know you won’t call me, or even send me an e-mail.
I know by now I should expect this but every time you leave it seems a bit abrupt and I’m left with the feeling that I’m being used. You breeze in and you stick around never paying a dime in rent. Then you leave again. You say; “It’s business baby.”
But why all the way across the world? Are you spreading your sunshine all over someplace else? Is some other hemisphere going to get your love? Say it isn’t so, summer. I thought we meant something to each other. Those long walks we’d have along the beach, the plans and dreams we had for the future.
This time I thought it would be different, but there you go again….