The thing about someone else's cat is that it will become your cat too quickly for you to spend much time at all thinking about how it is really someone else's.
The thing about someone else's apartment is similar to the thing about someone else's cat.
The moment you are alone in the apartment, the moment you stare into the cat's eyes with no other human around, these things become the things that you do in your most pure form. These are the things that 'unwatched you' does. This becomes the space where you vanish.
The silent inside of your head where you live where you dont name the thoughts that float by.
Do you remember the first time your saw a film with a voice over?
You were a child and ‘Is that what thoughts sound like?’ You wondered as the perfectly phrased sentences spoke themselves over the image of a badly directed actor who put a finger to his lip and glanced up to the left pointedly as though the voice was coming from there.
The voice is not coming from there, the voice is coming from the place where you vanish.
"Harold, a tree doesnt think its a tree. it is a tree."
"why was harold talking to this man. this man was an idiot. This man used words like wibbly wobbly and explained that trees were trees. of course trees were trees. harold knew that trees were trees."
...I memorize movies.
I wrote that from my mind. There are words in my mind.
I have an audiographic memory. Is that a real term? Spell check doesnt think so.
Dates are for dresses. Wear a dress.
I am un-normable.
we all are arent we and so then whats the purpose?
The iranian director of photography said that he also has trouble dressing in any label-able way.
We talked about movies on the long car ride up to the hamptons. We had never met before but we talked about movies which led to talking about politics which led to talking about stories again which led to emotions and then movies again and so we talked about everything including our fear of dressing in a label-able way.
"Are you a hippie?" He asked and that was how it began. Later he apologized for the question.
Labels are a relief sometimes.
Labels, give-ins, objective norms. They hold the weight of their own shoulders so you dont have to hold their shoulders.
“I dont want to put that on her shoulders.” said the girl's sad brother when I asked him why didnt tell his happy sister that he was sad.
“what about your shoulders?” I said and he shrugged them.
About someone else's cat
Is that it is always possible that they think you are their someone.
They think that you are her but acting differently than she usually acts.
I know about animal's sense of smell and I know that it tells them many things but does it convey to them the information of 'different human' or only of 'human behaving and smelling differently.'
Does she think I am her human?
She has blue eyes and grey fur and she follows me from room to room as though I am going to leave again. Again because I think she thinks I am the one who left. The one who is still gone. She smells that her human is not here but because I also feed her the way her human did and I pet her and walk and breathe the way her human did she thinks I am the same person but understands that that person has left and doesn’t want that person to leave again so she follows me from room to room afraid that I will leave again.
The brooklyn shuttle passes by below the apartment windows.
Theres a canal down there of green trees and rock walls way down there three stories and an underpass lower than the windows.
And the top of the silver shuttle goes by like a disney world ride through a jungle set.
I’ve been listening to Wild Child and Bright Eyes and Tom Robbins and they all have different things to say about love.
Miso, the magical cat, is good at being in love. I like her for her shameless devotion. I champion the good kinds of insanity and so I let her into my bed and am not allergic to her anymore.
And it’s remarkable how many things look like the figure head of a ship. Lamp posts on highways, flag poles jutting out of buildings, trees with branches that reach long, long necks on people. Construction sites are also ship like with their towering crane-masts and netting that catches the breeze.
A ship with sails is a thing I will never have. My values will get tangled in their attempt to love a ship. I do not like contrivance and a ship today would be pure contrivance because we no longer need sails. I like function and purpose and a ship with sails today would be pure spectacle. But I love things that tower. I love construction cranes, they terrify me because when things are tall I think they will fall or maybe that is not true. Maybe that is me attempting to justify the mystery of my love of things that tower. I do not think they will fall I just think they are so high. Awe is a word for them.
Let’s sit under bridges and feel that below-a-towering-thing-vertigo.