Hookers or Cake

Where the self-obsessed get serious about silly
I'm too wacky to be hip.

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      ------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.

      ----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.

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          • August 26, 2011 12:00 am
            I have a little cat I talk to now and then. She lives with me. I found her when she was a little kitten in the alley. So her name Allie. I wanted to call her Yoshima or Uncle Frank but my roommates at the time insisted on calling her Allie.  So when I tell Allie something about wolf rituals or my invisible companion that lives in the underground tree, she looks at me like I’m giving her directions to cat treat garden and then she winks. She acts like she’s a sentient being that understands what I’m saying. And while on the casual level, I know she totally digs what I’m saying, its just… she don’t speak English. She speaks some weird fucking cat language. Cat language is just a lotta cussing and a lot of meowing far as I can tell. I speak it. So I can look at her dead serious and say, “Hey Meow Meow Poop Face, do you find that your soul is full of grace do you want to fall into this gorgeous space is your heart   wildly curious ever-after? And Allie will just nod all chill, like I’m playing the bongos on her soul. And then she winks at me. We share a knowing glance. and everything falls away there is only seeing cuz animals are insanely real, dude. I mean except when they’re being possessed by demons. Demons that just wanna fuck with you. Which is like 62% of the time.

            I have a little cat I talk to now and then. She lives with me. I found her when she was a little kitten in the alley. So her name Allie. I wanted to call her Yoshima or Uncle Frank but my roommates at the time insisted on calling her Allie. 

            So when I tell Allie something about wolf rituals or my invisible companion that lives in the underground tree, she looks at me like I’m giving her directions to cat treat garden and then she winks. She acts like she’s a sentient being that understands what I’m saying. And while on the casual level, I know she totally digs what I’m saying, its just… she don’t speak English. She speaks some weird fucking cat language.

            Cat language is just a lotta cussing and a lot of meowing far as I can tell. I speak it. So I can look at her dead serious and say,

            “Hey Meow Meow Poop Face,

            do you find that your soul is full of grace

            do you want to fall into this gorgeous space

            is your heart  

            wildly curious ever-after?

            And Allie will just nod all chill, like I’m playing the bongos on her soul. And then she winks at me.

            We share a knowing glance.

            and everything falls away

            there is only seeing

            cuz animals are insanely real, dude.

            I mean except when they’re being possessed by demons. Demons that just wanna fuck with you. Which is like 62% of the time.

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