Two for the price of One Plus a Dollar…

These are the kitties of Randall, “Couch Kitty” and “Window Kitty” .. also known as Alex and Max.
These are the photos we took before they left. It’s been weird. I didn’t want to blog about them, because I don’t know how they are – but I haven’t been blogging a lot and yesterday I went out and read some of my writing to some people and there was mirth and fun and enjoyment and I realize how much I edit and hold back and am careful and it does me no good because bad things continue to happen anyway regardless of what I do. So I may as well just continue on as I am, writing as I like and trying my hardest to be the best that I can be. What can one do about such things? We are moving, and it’s a billiondy million degrees, and and I have been a worrier of Epic Porpoises since I was a podling. Everything will work out fine. I continue to stare suspiciously at the piano and wish things would pack up themselves and magically sort-out-in-all-easy-ways.
1. Pianoteq problem again while trying to save some old data. Well, my pianos have been saved. This is very important because they are like my babies and represent times and places in my development and they remind me of people and places and conversations and stuff I was going through. Sometimes I would just make a piano to FEEL better.

2. I am going to have a graham crackers shaped like tiny rabbits. Because I can.
3. I’m out at my Tuesday night writers group again. I’m proud of this, because this is something that I I’ve been doing that is consistent and that is special and tasty. I don’t know if “tasty” applies here; but we’re going to go with it.
4. Have you ever reached an impasse with a friend? Well, I have reached an impasse with this particular friend so many times that the restaurant that we used to meet at when we were younger with firmer complexions has turned into a hipster space station and moved down the road. I’d go in there, but I am afraid that the smell of TIGI and pretention would choke every shred of energy I have regained from me. Yes, every precious SHRED of energy that I have refound and will clutch to my bosom before my doctor has figured out that I have ripped myself off cholesterol medicine and thrust its evil presence from my wrecked body.
5. I’m a tad drama today. Expect more typing.
6. I think I’m slowly finding my fan base. I’ve been hunting them down. I have, of course, been saying this for years of beers, and the 6-8 people who have OPT-ed-ed-IN are tired of my megalomaniacal claims I am sure. They are people like me. But the regular channels of the Getting of the Attention … it doesn’t WORK that way. I can’t be all MERCHY with these people. I can’t jump up and down with pom-poms and clever hooks and drag them out to gigs and send them to my bandcamp.
7. My husband, who apparently although he has a job cannot be bothered to actually code or anything (#pokeymirthlystuff) has figured out that Vinny the Geriatric Kitteh is between 84 and 90ish years of age in human years. Before we dragged him back inside, he was having a vigorous, non-consensual “dating” life with Domina – who I am assuming is between 50 and 60. I am thinking that perhaps a crotchety (yes, I am aware that I have enjoyed typing that word before) .. old man cat could have been rather useful last night as Get-the-Hell-Off-My-Porching those Raccoons last night. More likely he would have just sat there allowing the powers that flea to take his love and take his land. Animals are jerks.
8. Anyway, about my fanz-with-a-Lolcat-inspired-“z” … they are people of the night. Unless they aren’t; and they feel more jaunty during the afternoon or for breakfast or elevenzees. Sometimes they are practical people who like to make crafty items with funny ears. Sometimes they aren’t weird for the sake of being weird. Actually, they never are. They’re just themselves. They just move around, heads cocked to the sides- funny half smiles at the ready. They don’t have the squinky look on their face that I imagine the majority of people make when they are reading my blog. Or perhaps I am giving myself too much credit and I think it is terribly Roman Tick to imagine myself velvet caped in my dungeon of delights playing my creepy basement organ.
9. that is not what she said.
10. I’ve missed blogging. I promise I will not get all creepy.
11. We are inDEED moving to a new location and it does not have a creepy basement for a creepy organ. There are probably about 3-4 basements in the whole city of Austin because of all the limestone. It’s really too bad because I bet it would be nice and cool and cavey down there.
12. OOOOO! I forgot all about CAVES!
12.5 -> I haven’t been myself lately. I’ve lacked confidence. I’ve need LOTS of reassurance. I USED to be like that, but I trained out of it. I think that this is because I got sick, and being sick is scary and hurty and vulnerable.

Well, no more! When you realize that you are in the bottom of a dank, dank, stinky hole then you have to look up and see the gleaming taco stand at the top and crawl back out. I have stuff to do. I’m not even going to link it. I’m not even going to BLOG RESPONSIBLY. You’ll all just have to wait because

HERE IS A DEN LIST:
A. I have either TWO or THREE songs to write. I’m hedging about the third because I am not sure if it is needed, wanted, or necessary. It’s become almost a philisophical connundrum at this point.

B. I SHOULD start with the song that I know I have, but for some reason doing the most difficult thing is what I crave, because if I can do it; that means that I have my stuff under control
C. There is not any more. For that is all.

hay-hay.

ps. sorry for mistigacakes. We have to go someplace and I don’t have the time to spell-chalk this up properliciously.

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Two for the price of One Plus a Dollar…

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