Wednesday, December 28, 2011
A love poem, by Pune
written early last week at the Vegas Diner in Bensonhurst
"My, my, my!" said the spider to the fry...
Ketchup and mustard may be quite condiment-al...
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Some cats have really hard jobs to do, especially when they're paired with amateur human beings. Nietzsche was one of my first cats and I loved him with everything I had, which unfortunately wasn't much at the time. In return he offered me unwavering protection as only a giant-sized philosopher-kitty with half a tail can, and let me dress him up in lights for my Christmas cards. I love you for always, Neetch Cat.
You know, you can tell a lot about a cat by the musical selections that accompany his story. Neetch can only be represented by the biggies.
We listened to this a lot on Sundays, me and Neetch and Loma P:
Monday, December 19, 2011
When it comes to toys, Derrick's pretty easy to please. Plastic grocery bag? It is best when rustled! Smudge on the wall? I must touch it with my big paw! But he really, really seems to like this new one, a Dalmatian with a nose that lights up and a voice that says "Merry Christmas" sounding suspiciously like Pepe the King Prawn.
It makes me think of the toys I played with as a kid. Or didn't play with, rather. I don't know why, but I really didn't have many. A Chrissy doll with hair that grew longer when you pushed a button on her back. Eventually, her hair made me frustrated..short or long, short or long, short or long…and she fell permanently out of my favor. Breyer horses on an endless journey across land and sea, as they made their way across a green and blue blanket. I guess mostly I read. And drew pictures of ladies with hair piled high on their heads, in dresses with bustles (???). And wrote stories about duck families surviving on bread crusts during terrible storms. And spent lots of time looking at the sky, and zooming from room to room while dancing to my sister's records, which weren't as good as my brother's, but I didn't know how to turn on his stereo.
Re: this next one: I hate when he says he's fat as a cow, but this one does contain a few of those random Wilsonian lyrical "Wha?"s: In the morning people are so happy/And that's the time when I'm a mister businessman.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
The other day I came home to find Peteena just so. Dangling from her foot, a feat. Rat in the corner, what is he gonna do?
Hmmm…who's to say the rat hadn't backed himself into that corner, too scared to take a risk and see if he might find a kind of heaven below?
After all this time, I finally learned that it wasn't Van Halen doing an Aztec Camera cover.
Like Ray said, (I think), if you're gonna steal, steal from the best!
Monday, December 12, 2011
Here's Binglet when I first got him, sans mask and still young enough for booties. (Like all meezers, he did eventually graduate to trouser socks.) His shaving brush tail remains the same, limiting his body language to powerful statements that end in exclamation points. While kitties with longer tails are able ask questions and insert commas and apostrophes as is their wont, this little dude knows that less is more when it comes to punctuation.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Fans of De La Vega's work will recognize this shattered dream that caught my eye on 87th Street, written on broken, soaken shards of glass. Despite the downer songs I've chosen to accompany this, I saw such beauty here--golden raindrops mirror-balling in the streetlight, hope rising out of a freakin' bag of garbage over the subway grate that some guy used to stand under as he looked up ladies' skirts. (Really, that's true, it was a couple years ago.) Seriously, remember what Nietzsche said about smashing everything and starting anew?
P.S. I took this photo with my new iPhone!
Kicked out of his band, tax evasion, handguns, ten vials of crack in 1/2 hour. Oh dude, we can hear dreams dying, dying in your beautiful voice even here:
Monday, December 5, 2011
You can tell by the angle of the ears on his big moon head--Derrick was not pleased when I took this photo. It seems I was interrupting his special private time with the new pillow, purchased earlier that day.
I should have known said pillow would cause trouble. Right as I was paying for it, some guy cut the line and started fondling it. "That's an interesting texture on that pillow," he said, groping and stroking the faux fur. At first I was pleased at myself for finding a bargain on such an obviously attractive item (16.67--marked down from original price of $50!), but then I started to think about boundaries, and how I have trouble knowing where they ought to start and stop--and alas, I think they do start at pillow-fondling at Macy's. You want an un-fondled pillow, ya know--or at least if anyone's gonna fondle it, he's gotta have red ears, four legs and a tail.
So yeah, anything plush and soft--i.e. the bumper car-shaped bed he stole from Bing--are clearly tactile Pines for Derrick. He kneads these objects like crazy, spreading his toes wide, rumbling, mumbling and drooling all the while. At least the guy in Macy's didn't do that.
Based not on personal experience but the range of comments on all video versions of this next song: If you're 14 years old or a guitar geek, the intro will blow your mind. Otherwise, just play it over and over while, uh, vacuuming.