On Dogs and Cats, and Unfortunately, Death

“‘It’s dreadful, isn’t it?'” “‘What? Death?'” “Yes. It makes everything else seem so horribly trivial. He doesn’t look human. When you look at him you can hardly persuade yourself that he’s ever been alive. It’s hard to think that not so very many years ago he was just a little boy tearing down the hill and flying a kite.'” (Somerset Maugham, The Painted Veil.) I just walked over to open my window as it was getting hot in my living room. I was all ready to start working; I had my coffee ready, a handful of stolen mini eggs from my kids’ Easter baskets had just been eaten, and all that was left was to let in some fresh air to counteract the effects of blind-less south-facing windows. And then I stopped. My dogs were sitting, or lying, in the sun, right outside the window. It was strange because they never sit outside that particular window. And so I looked again, closer this time. There was something else lying at their feet. Something black and fuzzy and – Oh My God!! It was a cat. Asleep….no, no, no, no. Shit. Not a sleeping cat. There was a ratty looking, but formerly fuzzy-looking, dead cat lying at my dog’s feet. It was black, just like them. Well, it still is black. It’s weird. I want to speak of it in the past tense because it is in the past tense, now. […]

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Old Age and Marilyn Manson

Last night I went to a concert. What concert, you ask? Well, a Marilyn Manson concert. Was it good? Hell, yes! It was awesome! He was awesome! I absolutely loved it! You know what I didn’t love? The fact that when a young girl (about twelve years younger than me) was told I was going to the concert, she laughed […]

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Damn Teenagers! Or, I mean, Damn Teenager!!

Okay, so I know I need to add the next post to my 642 Things, but I’d rather rant tonight. Yeah, yeah, I know you’re all desperately waiting for another entry (here is where I would enter in the word NOT, but I am not twelve years old anymore, but I will just hope you get the sarcasm instead), but I just gotta rage instead. Plus, what came up for this prompt ended up highly X-Rated and I can’t write it until I check into into wordpress’ rules on X-rated blogging. Maybe I should find an alternate site for the next post in the meantime…. But, I digress. What I wanted to do instead was bitch and complain about this little shit of a teller in Walmart. And yes, I’m calling some fifteen-year-old kid a little shit because he obviously stirred something up in me that I did not like. But let me start at the beginning…. I was on my way to through the till when I decided to pick up a treat for my children seeing as it’s spring break and they were all pouty that they had to go to karate (“It’s spring break! Why do we have to do anything!”). Originally, I had picked up mini eggs for them, but then thought to myself that maybe I shouldn’t always get them food as a reward. Maybe I should find other things so when they get older […]

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Damn Relationships!

I have been addictively watching Sons of Anarchy lately, catching up on what I have missed. As in, the entire series. My life has been overtaken. I could sit here and write pages of what I love about it (the pace, the need to kill bad guys, Jax), life lessons I’ve learned from it (like, don’t double cross your gang members or you get ripped apart…literally), and so forth, but I’m not going to. Just do an Internet search of the Sons and there are enough people doing just that. So why then, did I mention it? Because there is one thing that draws me the most to this show, and it’s not the violence or the bikes or the vests (patches I guess I should call it to remain true to the show). It’s the way they handle conflict. And I don’t mean conflict in a literary story-writing sense, but interpersonal conflict. It’s how the characters solve their own shit that keeps me coming back every. single. day (because we are in the time of netflix people, binge watching is how it is). No, I do not mean how they deal with conflict on a large scale, like, someone turned rat and now must die. I mean, how they deal with it among friends. I’m actually jealous of it. There is no beating around the bush, there is no passive-aggressiveness, there is no silent treatment. There is only in-your-faceness. […]

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