July 2008


Well, the last two weeks or so there’s been a cat and her kitten hanging around my backyard. Because I can never just leave these things alone, and the Mamacat, (who I named The Cat) was so skinny and sad-looking, and the Babycat (named The Kitten) was so playful and oblivious, I started giving them food here and there. And then more here than there, and then every morning and night.

Now, the plan was to feed them until I could catch them (without touching them, because, ew, fleas, and weird kitty diseases and I have my own animals to think about). The Cat was immediately surprisingly friendly and kind of insisted that I pet her (I obliged with a long stick), but The Kitten had clearly never been touched by a human and freaked when I went near.

I have a pretty good view of where the cats hang out at night from my bedroom window; last night the kitten was playing with the lawn chairs as usual while The Cat looked on. All was well, I fell asleep. And then this morning, my mom goes to work and gets a nice surprise – dead kitten on the sidewalk! More effective than coffee for waking up. It looks like the next-door neighbor ran him over on their way out – there’s blood and all. I believe it was The Kitten’s first time out of the backyard in a while, and perhaps he didn’t understand that when the car starts to move, you run away.

It’s actually rather depressing. Or at least, upsetting enough that I’m here writing about it instead of finishing that online quiz. On the one hand, they were not my cats, were only around for a couple of weeks. On the other hand, OMG DEAD KITTEN! So I feel torn between “I shouldn’t really care about this” and “Aw, poor kitty.” Which probably doesn’t sound like much tearing, but still. *sigh* I don’t like it when my plans are interrupted like this!

At least – if I’m going to look for a bright side – now that the skittish The Kitten is gone (RIP), I can probably get the more trusting The Cat into a box this weekend, and then it’s off to the Humane Society.

Obviously, the Song of the Moment has to be “Ding Dong”, by Nellie McKay.

Live:

Lyrics:

My cat died and I quickly poured myself some gin.
Did she die from old age or was it for my sins?
God I loved her oh so much, miss her little kitty touch
Does she miss me, does she care?
Oh I miss her kitty stare.

Do you have a little time? Would you like to ease my mind?
Talk for hours and never stop,
chop your head off, be a lighter person, brighter person,
nicer, but you’ve heard it all before.

So ding dong, there’s the doorbell,
Hello, man in white. He’s gonna
make you all well, get you through the night.
But hey, now, you don’t feel better,
as you take your fresh bromide, maybe this man of letters lied.

let me tell you ’bout a dream I had the other night,
you were in it, boy, you sure gave me a super fright.
I was walking down the street,
downtown by the DMV,
you popped out behind a door,
it was odd you were on all fours.
Do you have some time to spare,
you were barking at a bear,
it said, hey you’d better stop.
Chop your head off
be a lighter person, brighter person
nicer,
but you’ve heard it all before.

So ding dong, there’s the doorbell.
Hello, man in red.
He’s gonna make you all well, getcha into bed.
But, hey, now, you don’t feel better,
as you wake and slowly rise. Maybe this smooth jet-setter lied.
…Stick around one minute more…I’m smarter than you think.
Do I sound like an old bore? Oh man,
it’s just the drink. I didn’t always hit the gin.
There were times when I fit in.
They’ll never know how much I tried.
Did I tell you my cat died?
 
Do you have a little time, would you like to feel sublime?
Run away and never stop, chop your head off,
be a lighter person
brighter person
nicer,
but you’ve heard it all before.

So ding dong, there’s the doorbell.
Hello, man in black. He’s gonna make you all well,
there’s no going back.
But, hey now you don’t feel better, as you drift off in the tide.
Maybe this jack the ripper lied
and you died

called Bosie. I got him as a male companion *cough, cough* for poor Glen, who was lonely. He’s turned out to be an utter killjoy and a freak, and also potentially a girl, but what the hey – Glen loves him anyway. Lord Alfred is a little more fickle about kisses and snuggling, but Glen’s needy as hell and will take anything he can get. It’s adorable.

Here he is in all his green glory.

 

We were tempted to call him Turtle, or Lemon, but I refuse to give my pets less than dignified names. Well. Except for Chewy, I guess. Glen and Bosie get along wonderfully well, except for the occasional incident of Bosie biting and generally rejecting Glen’s advances.

This is my favorite picture ever:

Glen’s a bit of a pudgie budgie, while Bosie’s slender and…lithe. Ok, sorry for that. The moral of the story is this: Bosie is a very pretty boy. Yes he is. What a pretty boy! Hello, Bosie.

 

about how terrible I am, and “aren’t I a terrible person? You agree, right? No, I am!” Luckily, I found the last thing I lost – my beautiful Cassadaga necklace. So my jean pocket isn’t a portal to another universe where valuables go to die, after all. I dropped it in the backyard somehow, and my dad found while cleaning. Yay. I mean, that still leaves the ipod, the earrings, the flash drive, and the other earrings in the list of “things I’ve lost in the last two weeks alone”, but at least now there won’t be an entire post with entitled thusly for me to regret publishing later.

Geez. What a bunch of sorry and confused sentences. You sorry excuse for a paragraph. Note to self: must re-learn how to write in a way which makes sense to others and as well as self. Preferably before that paper is due next month.

cassadaga

Remember how, like, three days ago, I mused on my surprisingly calm and adult reaction to my tragic ipod loss? You can just disregard that entire post. I’m obviously going completely insane, and/or I’m simply a terrible and irresponsible person who doesn’t deserve to have control over things, period, own life included.

If you can strain a little and think back two seconds ago to when I offered my beautiful, blue, tiny, leather-encased ipod nano to every thief in the vicinity, you’ll recall a very postive, forward thinking attitude on my part. What’s done is done, I said. Things that suck happen in life. Unless you’re an idiot – then life just sucks in and of itself. The point is: I lost an ipod that I loved and cost about three hundred dollars. Then, at some point on Thursday, I lost a usb flash disk thingy which cost about fifteen. I am so much more devestated over the latter.

I spend all day feeling anxious, nauseous, and near tears. Why me, God? Well, probably because I kept it in my jean pocket all day. Remeber that pit of despair that was weirdly MIA on Monday during the ipod debacle? It was just hanging out a few days later here on Thursday, waiting for me to catch up.

I know that it’s more upsetting because I had so many – and I do mean so many – documents and things (including future posts, something I was trying to put together for youtube [not my thing, so it took me several weeks to get to where I was – about two minutes of footage]), stuff from when I was ten, my jounral that had seventy some-odd pages – well, I just hope that it’s lying in a garbage bag or gutter right now, and not taken by some asshole who’s now reading all my private things.

So right now I’mgoing back and forth from indulging in some pretty intense self-pity to seething self-hatred and guilt. It’s been a fun week.

I’m one of those “no use crying over spilled milk” people that I so loved to mock. Who knew? At its core, it’s just a matter of self-preservation, though, and I’m all about that.

I did one of those amazingly stupid things that I sometimes do, except this time it cost me four-hundred dollars worth of damage. Yes, I lost my ipod. It continues to utterly embarrass me to admit that.

I’m usually anal about my possesions to the point of irritating the people around me with my constant checking and rechecking of their well-being. Yet I managed to leave the pod and headphones lying at the computer desk I was using when I went to class yesterday. The frustrating thing is, as I walked to class I actually did check to make sure they were in my bag, and was sure that I saw them. I hallucinated! My mind clearly saw that something was missing from the picture of my bag’s insides and filled in the hole. Christ.

Well anyway, after realizing they were missing (when I tried to take them out for my bus-ride background music), I went back to the library. I wasn’t freaked at this point. I figured, seven out of ten people finding something of that sort in a library would take it to the front desk – wouldn’t they? I thought, there’s a good chance my ipod’s doing alright in a drawer somewhere. But when I got the computer desk I saw my headphones lying alone, ipod disconnected and whisked away (which, asshole thief? Those headphones are pretty expensive themselves). I did the rest – checking the desk, security, ect., but obviously it was just taken.

But I surprised myself by not utterly freaking out. I mean, certainly I felt nauseous, and a little dizzy/giddy, but I did not fall into a deep pit of horrified dispair. I thought, “It’s definetly gone. I have no earthly way of getting it back. There goes four hundred dollars. It’s certainly going to suck dealing with this.”

And it does, by the way, suck dealing with this. Parental fallout, mostly, because that was a Christmas present, and those long empty spaces where the music used to be. But this, too, shall pass. I guess. I think this is part of that whole “getting older” thing I’ve been doing the last few years.

She’s sitting at a public library computer, staring down at the keyboard and thinking, “This nail color isn’t working out the way it’s supposed to.” Ok, so there’s a reason I had such a hard time finding green. I’ll call it a beginner’s mistake and move on.

I like painting my nails, now. Mostly, it gives me something to look at — when I’m typing, when I’m doing dishes, when I’m walking and my hand swings just into view at the corner of my eye. But this strangely light, irritatingly metallic green sheen thing I’ve got going on — it keeps my interest, at least, but that’s less in the “oh, pretty colors” way and more the repulsed way in which I watched 80% of Santino’s presentations that season of Project Runway. I am glad he made it to the finale, though, because I thought his final collection was the best and should have won — Chloe’s put me to sleep and Daniel V. absolutely horrified me (while also putting me to sleep. Strange feeling).

And yeah, they’ve been giving PR marathons on Bravo all damn week. The fifth season starts on Wednesday, apparently — seems a little soon for me, but I’m not complaining. Auf Wiedersehen .

Instead of sending me “a few songs for the summer”, my sister went a little insane and sent me ninety-six. So I’m listening to them in groups of six to eight at a time. They’re pretty good, for new music (I’m one of those people who needs to acquire tastes) so I’m picking one song from every new set to feature as Song of the Mo’, and that takes care of that for the next few…months?

Anyway, here’s your SotM! I’ve often mocked the Be Good Tanyas for their unshakably lesbian-indie-folk-group vibe, but I’ve never disliked the music. It’s always pleasant, and “Littlest Birds” is a great example of that. Hereya.

Lyrics:

Well I feel like an old hobo,
I’m sad lonesome and blue

I was fair as the summer day,
now the summer days are through.
You pass through places
and places pass through you
but you carry ’em with you
on the soles of your travellin’ shoes.

Well I love you so dearly, I love you so clearly,
I wake you up in the mornin’ so early
just to tell you I got the wanderin’ blues,
I got the wanderin’ blues
and I’m gonna quit these ramblin’ ways one of
these days soon.

And I’ll sing,
the littlest birds sing the prettiest songs [X4]

Well it’s times like these
I feel so small and wild
like the ramblin’ footsteps
of a wanderin’ child.
And I’m lonesome as a lonesome whippoorwill
singin these blues with a warble and a trill.
But I’m not too blue to fly
No I’m not too blue to fly cause

The littlest birds sing the prettiest songs [X4]

Well I love you so dearly, I love you so fearlessly
I wake you up in the mornin’ so early
just to tell you I got the wanderin’ blues,
I got the wanderin’ blues
And I don’t wanna leave you, I love you through and through

I left my baby on a pretty blue train
and I sang my songs to the cold and the rain.
I had the wanderin’ blues
and I sang those wanderin’ blues.
And I’m gonna quit these ramblin’ ways
one of these days soon

And I’ll sing,
the littlest birds sing the prettiest songs [X6]
 

****************************

Whippoorwill: a nocturnal North American nightjar, Caprimulgus vociferus, having a variegated plumage of gray, black, white, and tawny.

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