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March 4th, 2009

dirt roads

i went out to the shelter tonight for the cat/kitten fosterer meeting. i doubt i'll actually foster this "kitten season," as they call the spate of months just about upon us, but i wanted to hear the current scoop just in case. there was lots of talk about socialization of the feral kitties. and there were two attendees who kept chatting with each other during the meeting---one of them constantly instigating it. made it hard to hear. the instigator really seemed to be a bit pathological, to be perhaps a tad uncharitable; she came to seem like a recurring Saturday Night Live character that's not funny cuz it's (a) nothing but utter repetition (b) exaggerated ad ridiculum. and even (c) based on something annoying in a meeting.

the thing i was gonna write about is how i took the unpaved back way to & from the shelter---through the woods in the slight hilly bit---and i liked that. feels good to me to be driving there, like it did when i was going up that way often, to walk dogs. driving back in that little bit of woodsiness feels like, for one thing, there are dirt roads out there, and hills, and forests, and things kinda spread out and omg farms and vast fields and i don't know what-all. it reminds me in some askance way of being nowhere and unafraid. that recollection is reassuring. and driving back there also feels like i remember living somewhere else, somewhere way else, and part of it felt okay, and that is also reassuring.

one of my own former shelter residents (i.e., my cats) broke a cool old green glass lidded dish in the kitchen tonight. i did what you have to do. you gotta attend to it quick and be thorough and just take care of that mess a.s.a.p.  seems all no-brainer. you do what you gotta do.

broken glass: is there the seed of an idea in it for a pop culture bestseller? it could be the follow-up to the one that could really turn me into a (fairly warped) re-take on tony robbins, via the Oprah launch of my whole inspirational cult-lite fad convention-hall tour. some of you have heard me speak of my brilliant idea for that campaign; the rest of you may have to wait until you need to get past my bodyguards to see me.

it's that cheese book, you know. it makes it seem just about anything will sell, and often does.

bedtime again. gotta cave. gotta pack it in. gotta surrender.

it's been nasty cold out.  uncle!  (anybody out there?)
 
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