the art show this past Friday was incredibly under-whelming. I myself could have done better by hallowing out an old refrigerator and calling the public to take a look at what I tacked up inside it. this town disappoints in many different ways, which probably explains why the rent is so low all over. of course that’s one of the good things. and this is a good place to come and die, if you prefer quiet and don’t want to be disturbed. but I would ward you from my street where they scream at each other and metaphorically slash each other’s tires and claw each other’s eyes out.
when c. left town, the cat box revolt began. that is, after performing my civic duty of emptying the thing out, putting in new litter and all of that, I’m sitting in the living room and watching TV, minding my own business, and little Kalika (lil bun bun) jumps into it and goes bathroom like a good girl, but then proceeds to loose control of herself, swiping the clean crystals in a frenzied state with her little paw, with most of her body propped up on the edge, and manages to tip the entire box out onto the tiled floor (at least I think that’s how she winds up doing it). what a vulgar scene!
with a few choice words I have the floor looking new again. but this morning what do I find? cat box revolt redux! “you cannot deter us!” our poor bathroom is looking like the French Revolution. maybe they are hungry, I think, and check their bowls. yes, empty. a good portion of time is spent on cleaning the bathroom once again, feeding them, and getting ready for work. maybe they need more litter poured in to weigh the thing down. I cannot afford another revolt.
. . .
I am reading, performing writing sessions, looking through the window at the beautiful women at the front counter, knocking work back so that there is a summer trickle of activity so that I remain in a nervous state half the time, and August weather is mild for a change, unless you’re in Florida and dead from the recent hurricane. then things would be not so mild.