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I thought I heard a cry some nights ago, or was it a lost dream? I had sat up in bed and listened hard, but nothing more.
Some of the cats about the yard, or others from down the street, come running when I jiggle my house keys. It's an amazing sight as they emerge from shadows, bushes, and porches as dinner time arrives with the key chimes.
A conspicuous absence over the past two nights as one of my girls who always came running had not shown. A lover and feeder of cats can't help worry about the "no shows." I thought about her often and hoped she was in a warm house.
While tending to cats this Sunday morning a phone call rang in from a neighbor across the street- I only expect to hear from him if something is wrong. Something was.
The neighbor came out his door and pointed and I found her. It must have been fast. And someone of course was speeding- fast enough to kill nine lives at once. She laid there along a fence. Gone, gone.
She's shrouded now on a garden chair. And I can't go about the digging just yet. This has to be processed first. So many died in recent succession, and I'm not ready to bury her as if she had been a fleeting dream.. I want some time to remember her dinner cries, or nights she'd gently bite my ear after satisfied with food. I want to remember a short life as so often goes life for a street cat. And she was alive once; and still so, there and here- in heaven and heart.
Like everybody else, I'll often run out of a household item. But I have this forgetfulness that seems connected with dish soap. I've even gone out specifically for dish soap and bought everything but. Then I'm rubbing a bar of my ghetto hand soap on a green scrubber to wash the cat plates and bowls. But I vow, tomorrow! tomorrow! I will not forget my dish soap!
A couple days ago I had just about had it and said, "never again! Never will I run out of dish soap again!" Oh, let me digress for a spell:
Please understand that I love to wash dishes. I love the process of taking something soiled and sanitizing it- making it shine. I love to look at clean dishes dripping dry neath the gleam of fluorescent light. I love everything clean again. Shiny again. New again.
I'm sure you've seen Midnight Cowboy, the scene where Joe Buck is chatting with the amiable Black dishwasher who tells Joe, "sounds like a real mess up there," when Joe describes NYC and not enough men to keep the women happy. I may have the soul of a dishwasher, I don't know. I do see myself dressed in white with the apron and a little white cap, scrubbing plates, washing glasses, shining silverware and just being wonderful little me..
But a day ago, again, I said "no more" and went to the supply store and purchased about five quarts of soapy stuff: Dawn, Ajax, Palmolive- I thought, "I can have a scrubbing bubble party now forever; I'll never leave the house".
So I do now have this superfluous supply of soap and prospects never looked better for combining the energy of elbow grease and my passion for a future shining bright. I'll wash windows, cat boxes, shoe soles, my underarms and feet, table tops and sinks, toilets and tubs. All this scrubbing, breaking of grime, restoration of squeak and shine- it's just good clean fun, really.
The Rams nearly pulled off a miracle victory against the Saints today, but fell just short. How short? Just one "tricky trick" short. Lack of confidence on the part of the Rams equaled fear as they hesitated reaching into the "tricky trick" bag.
The team will be watching the scoreboard today in hopes that the Arizona Cardinals lose, and gain no ground on the burgeoning Ram team.
This is your always hopeful, slightly delusional Ram reporter, plagueofparadox, reminding you that next week will bring with it a fresh victory for the Rams, fueled by new tricky tricks not yet tried.
The Saints have no idea how much time the Rams have spent in front of chalk boards and on the practice field perfecting their little "tricky trick" plays in anticipation of a game today whose outcome will shock fans, experts, and of course, the Saints themselves!
Sources I spoke with, whom I promised anonymity, revealed that former Rams Roman Gabriel and Jack Snow visited the Rams players and coaching staff and gave gave moving and inspirational pep talks. Apparently many of the Rams players had tears in their eyes as they listened to legendary football tales told by the veterans.
Your plagueofparadox "scorecast" sees the Rams pulling out an amazing victory with seconds left by virtue of a Josh Brown 35-yard field goal. As stated in a previous post, the dreadlocked Steven Jackson will rush for over 200, and quarterback Marc Bulger will throw for over 400 as the Rams go on the fast track for a divisional championship and their second Super Bowl victory.
I've worked in muddy trenches building forms for concrete. I've had big steel I-beams swung over my head and i wasn't afraid.. I've had jobs cleaning toilets and people would run from fouled commodes screaming; and I would charge in with a brush and cleanser and shine everything anew.. I've worked in horse barns shoveling horse shit and loved the fragrant stalls and felt so happy making clean bedding for happy horses.. I swing a sledge hammer like a maniac. I love to carry heavy stuff cus i like the feel of weight and blood pumping in my muscles. I haul fallen timber or rake leaves like an ancient, delighted bum.. I dig deep holes for fence posts, laboring thru resistant clay; hammer up sections of fencing like a frontiersman.. I climb high ladders and high roofs where others won't go: They cry, "don't worry, Plague will do it." I get high being up high, on the precipice of death.. All this and-
I purchased Mitchum women's anti-perspirant the other day. I like the way it smells under my arms. Like scented oil. So fresh. I am not afraid to smell this way. Anyway, why can't I smell like a flower?
For this genre- really well done. It had been so many years since I had seen it. Really enjoyed the singing talent of Wendy O. Williams. She was a gas.
Once in a while it's really good to watch a trashy film. Or to get half drunk (once a year is enough for me). Or to have a big dinner and desert (as often as possible- I can't resist!).
Tomorrow night is "Giant" with James Dean. We will see. Looking forward to it. Maybe I'll order a pizza.
I take an Anatomy&Physiology class at a community college in NJ. A classmate next to me had commented early on that "the professor was very funny." After two months of class thus far I just noticed today that all my classmates have been laughing at the professor. I have never cracked a smile in class and today felt a little self-conscious as all were laughing at the funny professor as I started to wonder "what was so funny?"
The last time I laughed uncontrollably was back in the early 90's when I watched "Spinal Tap" on video for the first time- I think it was a scene where some columns fell over on stage- I can't remember. But I laughed so hard I nearly choked.
There are one or two comics who make me laugh. To me, Chris Rock is not funny. Any comic who has an arsenal full of "shits" and "fucks" is never funny. I have laughed heartily at Emo Phillips and Steven Wright. Back in the early SNL days, I would never laugh at John Belushi, but would crack up watching the brilliant Dan Akroyd. I haven't watched SNL once in the past 25 years.
I will laugh watching the Honeymooners, Dragnet, Adam 12, Gomer Pyle, and the Addams Family. A witch I knew said, "You're an old soul, Plague."
While I think laughing is good, I can probably live without it. But I do like making others laugh- maybe it's a control issue? Maybe I view my laughter as a "loss of control."
I had heard a commentator say that the "happiness" scene was mostly an American thing. Most other places in the world people walk about their days with grim countenances and don't think about being "happy". As much as I'm in no position to travel, I wouldn't mind taking a trip to a place where laughter is sparse, where the "smiley face" does not reign. Where is this place- other than my heart?
I don't know if it's just coincidence- I don't think so- but blogger Spamelot is no longer here. In my attempt to "flush out some truth-" as it relates to this blog site- I may have inadvertently hurt someone's feelings, and I didn't really want to do that.. For whatever reason, I did not hold back in expressing my annoyance with the "spam" posts, cus I did find them annoying, and frankly, not funny. However, some here did find said posts to be funny, and maybe they will now think that I "drove him away" with my criticism.. As a Libertarian, I'd be the last to discourage someone to say anything, even if I didn't agree with or like what they had to say..
While I don't know for sure why "spamelot" is no longer here (maybe he was violating copyright laws by using the Spam name?), I'm going to make some effort to stay out of the realm of "negative criticism" and just "mind my own business" going forward. I can't seem to find a working balance between isolation and engagement.
In order to generate interest (subscriptions/ more money) and make a transition from Fast Cupid to a racier, sexier "Faster" Cupid, this blog site is now being inundated with "members," who are in fact Fast Cupid employees whose job it is to make more of a "party" of this site.. Have you noticed that many of the recent posters do not have large portions of their profile filled out, like: "why you should get to know me?" Thru the portal I go thru, if this section is not filled out, you can't even post your profile.. And the "hide erotic photo, show erotic photo;" this will likely be a new feature as the site is "sexed up" along the lines of an "Adult Friend Finder." As I have no fear of pointing fingers, it's my contention that the likes of "Cowgirl Rosie" and "Spamelot (headless profile pics) are in fact employees of Fast Cupid.. If you think my theory is silly, you can let me know.
This I heard, listening to the news on radio. That the Aerosmith singer is having some type of "problem" again and that the band has broken up cus they can't have one of their members having "problems."
I'm not an Aerosmith fan, but when they were all "zonked out" on substances, they seemed to make pretty good music. Then they got all cleaned up, probably had personal trainers and the like, and what's the result? Well, how about "Dude Looks Like a Lady?"
If Tyler has "fallen off the wagon," perhaps he will have another go at being a renaissance man. As a cleaned up, buffed rock dude, I think he was a door nail as an artist.. To all you long-haired rock fucks out there: Better that you're dirty, so you can rock on, MAN!
To link to this blog from blog posts/comments, use [blog plagueofparadox], from anywhere else use http://personals.sfweekly.com/blog/plagueofparadox,
and to read it remotely use the feed.
