CATS

It seems like forever since I gave away everything. I don't need much, so I gave it all away and moved to a back alley where plenty of stray cats and trashed magazines keep me company. And people, too, of course. I live in a city; there are people everywhere. It isn’t even just that there are people everywhere. It’s that they get into everything: your business, how you look, the pace of your walk, the flavor of your spit, whether your elbows feel rough. They dig into everything. 

It wasn’t until I started meeting the aforementioned cats that I really understood what was going on. First off, have you ever (cat owners, I’m talking to you) woke to the command of someone who was not you? Spouses, lovers, expert-gymnast-fornicators aside, who will wake you when you least expect it? Who wrests that dream of lazy, sliding-into-nothingness away from you? Cats. You know how and why? Mind control. They are not only limber, light footed, nosy and smelly infiltrators of households; they can inject your head with their thoughts. And you will be none the wiser. 

Ever wonder why you are doing the things you are doing lately? Ever wonder where those stray, tangential thoughts come from? See the word stray? It is time for you to know that cats run everything. For 60 years they have been refining their societal crafting skills. Sometimes they’ve screwed up big time. Vietnam? The cats were learning the ways of humanity during that one (it was also a conflict between rival cat factions). They learned there are consequences for their actions. But that doesn’t keep them from being so damned curious. They picked up after WWII when humans were most vulnerable. This led to easy infiltration of high public offices, but in no way did it keep them from fumbling their first power play. That was Vietnam. The Cold War was no great success either. We’re still in the middle of that one. 

That was a quick span of time told in a sickeningly swift paragraph. I apologize. But the menace is clear and we will not be spared if we do not wake up to what is going on around us.

 

Now, we are not uncomplicated beings. We are influenced by shit we do not even have a clue about. Thoughts, feelings and actions run like programs on our hard drives, and we cycle, cycle, cycle through them until we find some combination of keys that can be pressed to delete them forever. Or seemingly ever. 

Let’s have a word about life. It is magical. It is so magical, on such a dynamic and incredible way, that humans can trick themselves into believing that it could not ever, ever actually be magical. Humans can say, “fuck this” and , “I can’t stand this shit,” but really, they are hesitant to stop doing that thing they hate. They create such momentum of fear and convulsion and heavy, heavy flatulence, that they can no longer remember why they ever crawled out of the womb to begin with. Society changes only in a process of terrifying self-mutilation. The infrastructure is not built to change. Most of it is not. These are not new thoughts. One day it will bound joyfully from its shackles of consumption and waste. Today, as we may see some of the business model change, much of it has not. The infrastructure I mentioned was built to profit by. As such, it must sustain itself through our consumption of its product. So the needs are created and we consume. You know all this. But, again, life is magical. We make use of its magic either to delude and destroy ourselves or remember who we truly are. 

Cats are more aware of magic and its uses than we are. We have invited them into our homes, and we are oblivious as to how to defend against their wiles. Most cats need to be in the presence of the person they are manipulating, while to a select few, distance means nothing. These few are the ones controlling our national leaders from remote dens. They grow fat, lazy and distended, as the cats on the lower rungs of the hierarchy bring them sustenance and carry out the grunt work, controlling humans on a national, regional, state and even town and suburban level. They do it with their eyes. Those hypnotic spheres hide their foul intent. Ever wonder why you’ve immediately disliked someone? Peer beyond the surface and you will see and know that rival gangs of cats are carrying out their agendas through us. Wars have raged because of national den conflicts. They protect their territory because they are selfish. They cannot be blamed entirely. We too are selfish. But, you see, they are the ones who have seized control. Cats have been mobilized for decades, humanity has been sedated into oblivion, and though there are clashes between national and regional dens, they are always loyal to the group they were at birth assigned to. 

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an alley to prepare for nightfall. 

Trust the way of the winds. For they will carry your message onward. 

Who Shall We Be to Each Other?

Ask the question intuitively and in each moment. For we will not know until the end. Within the essence of choice lies intuition. It is available in every moment and comes without question, though it may have one to pose or resolve. 

Will you dare to knock on the door of Life? Will you demand entry and will you seek that which only lies within? The tools are available, the mission is clear. There is no path but onwards, there are no seeds but what are daily sown. There is always knowing there is more. There is higher and there is farther. But there is also much right where you are today. In every moment an infinity, of course. 

Here lies the way.

Along This Sojourn

Beauty, in all its forms, never topples, never falls. It never trembles with reluctance and it never apologizes. It speaks boldly, often quietly. It does not age, it does not regret. It surges forward like a tidal wave. It does not stop. It only looks ahead, and it will not ever limit itself. For you are beautiful. You are not these words. You are beyond the speaking of any phrase or description. 

She offers it up, and whispers a goodbye. 

Ah, "so long" is said at last. It will not be long until we meet again. You seek the silence, and you answer its hidden melody. It is here. It is with you. And you are not alone. Great Loves and great Lives have answered the call. To be most humorous in your travels. To be most light upon your step and yet fully aware. Be brave. Be bold. And paint what your heart is made of. Fire and blood and flesh filled with fuel like a rocket. See how the days pass like that. 

The message is not in the words.

It Probably Optimistically Doesn't Factor Into the Whole of What You Are Considering

Beachfront property. My backyard. Your mole with air inside. A slide trombone plumbing new depths. 

It cannot begin with yelling. But if it does, you should know that soon things will change. Soon, all the anger in the world will hold no sway and some will only bleat openly into the wind. At the wind. With the wind. 

A small egg bearing the largest chicken. What is it, dear chicken, that you have to bring forth? Is it not what you thought it would be? Has it been ill prepared for, or lacking in consideration? Long thought, the discussion ends with oneself full circle. The ends meet and there is wholeness. Wholeness abounds where nothing lacks, where the sun shines equally upon the parts that run ragged all features of solitude, and wipe clean the slate of good fortune. 

In a rumbling automobile I can hear each part performing its task. They all make some sound or other. I hear, discern and know them all. One more skill couldn't hurt.

You look different today. Is it possible that you're going through something? Through it? Not merely by it or around it, but straight through the muggy whatsitcalled. I'm glad for you. You do look taxed, but you are looking, and so you shall find. 

Ring.

Have to Read Quickly

Here's my reading method: light the cover on fire when you begin, and try to finish reading before the entire book is aflame.

Plastic Soda Pop Cup

Seated, misplaced or abandoned at my side, on the picnic table in the park, was the plastic vessel for a soft drink from Taco Bell.

“So,” I said, “Do you have anything to say besides advertising for your unhealthy goods and services?”

“I might,” it said. “I just might.”

“You might, eh? Well, what?”

“Well, what is your name?” it redirected.

“My name is Tyler. Now what do you have…”

“And where do you live?”

“Nowhere. Would you ans…”

“And what do you do…you know, for fun?”

I just stared at it for a moment. I could smack it off the table and into oblivion. I know, it knows, we’re all sitting here learning so much…whatever…I place it diagonally about a foot and a half away from me.  

“That’s the first time I’ve been relocated since being sipped by my former owner. Thank you,” it said.

“Why “thank you”? I asked.

“I was getting tired of being there. Something about the knot in the wood below me. Disorienting.”

“So now you feel clearer?”

“Clearer about some things.”

“What in particular?”

“What is it you said you like to do again?”

“Nothing, I live nowhere, and I’m asking the questions, unless you want me to help you into that trash bin.”

“Whatever you want,” it said.

Moments went by without speaking. Minutes. I looked around. Joggers jogging, dogs being walked or bear sized dogs taking their owners on a ride that was more than they bargained for when they were just puppies and cute. I noticed the ring of moisture the cup had left behind after I moved it. I dipped my right index finger in it and traced the circle. I got a sharp splinter for my troubles, graciously bestowed by the wood of the table. The plastic cup spit. It sucked in its breath and launched a bit of dark brown substance onto mu upturned index finger as I examined the splinter. The liquid began to fizzle on my skin. It tingled. I shook most of it off.

“What are you doing? Soda is not helpful right now.”

“My mistake,” it said.

“If you had any water to clear away the blood, that would be fine, but…”

The next in a long series of interruptions came not verbally, but garbly as the plastic cup seemed to be sucking in breath from the outside in order to make a vacuum powerful enough to blow bubbles on its inside. After a moment, it somehow swished its liquid from side to side, making it rock in place, and then stopped. It spat a clear liquid that hit my offended index finger with astonishing precision. This liquid did not sizzle at all. It simply seeped quickly into my skin, as if it was unsure of whether I would try to flick it off like I had the soda. Pushed from within – by the liquid? – the splinter was being edged out of my finger. It fell back to the table it came from and I cocked my finger to flick it off.

“Are you su…” the cup began, but I had already let loose my finger. The splinter had become wedged between a small crack in the wood, so when my middle finger made contact, the pressure exerted against the splinter drove it deep within my middle finger.

“I bet you would not have chosen to do that. I tried to warn you.” The cup looked a bit proud. But it hadn’t moved an inch or visibly altered its already mould perfect posture.

“Yeah, well you’re just an uppity cup. Huh, my other finger does feel better. I don’t know whether it’s because my middle finger hurts more or because your strange liquid actually worked.”

“You may never know.”

“Would you try again?”

“No.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because,” and with that the cup spun on its base and faced its label the opposite direction. It began gurgling softly to itself.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Why not? I could dash you all over this park if I wanted to,” I said, but I wasn’t yet finished with a cup that had the power of speech.

“I’ll try something else if you answer my questions,” it said.

“Fine,” I said, waving my finger in the air, not wanting it to make contact with anything that might push the splinter deeper. “What’s your name? Are you male or female?”

“I have none, and it doesn’t matter.” The cup spun back around, let loose one huge bubble on the inside, and continued, “Have you ever wondered about your life, where you’re going, and how you are doing right now in the grandest scheme of things?”

“Of course, what’s your point?”

“Well, I wonder how you think you are doing in the grand scheme of whatever.”

“I don’t know. Well, I suppose. I have a job and a life where I have fun…sometimes not, but mostly I do.”

“Oh? What kind of fun?”

“You know, I have friends I do things with, family I am close to.”

“Oh, that’s terrific.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“So that means you’re doing well at Life?”

“I don’t know.”

Quiet. For a moment.

“Suppose you’re not doing well at all, you only think you are?” the cup continued.

“Well, then, someone ought to tell me. Could you please just release me from this spli…”

“What do you wish you had that you do not?”

“I don’t know. A wife. Security. A family.”

“And those are hallmarks of what you might call success? I’m glad my job is so easy. Be filled and then empty. Penetrated with a straw for a while, have the contents sucked out of you, and then it’s to the trash bin and maybe the recycling plant or landfill. It’s quite straight forward mostly.”

“I guess we’re more complicated.”

“No you’re not. You’re just human. You just do more things. Doesn’t make you complicated. You are good at pretending.”

“And you are good at insulting,” I said. Feelings hurt by a plastic nothing. I stared out across the park’s pond. The sun was going down. Why am I here?

“Why are you here?” The cup asked.

“Good question. I guess I should go.” I picked the cup up…I’ll assume it’s a he…I picked him up and headed for the garbage bin. “Now take out my splinter. Please.”

“So you can throw me away? No. You must take me to your home now. I will live with you. In your cupboard or on your night table, occasionally refreshed by the sudsing waters of the dishwasher, but no, I will not be tossed in any landfill or melted down and reformed this time.”

I tossed him in the garbage bin.

“Goodbye.” I called behind me, already on my way down the path towards home.

“Hmmm, interesting how this turned out,” I heard the cup mutter from the bin. He raised his voice so he could be sure I’d hear him. “Good luck! I know it’s creepy crawly and massively jumbled out there, but keep your head up, your fingers away from wood, and your spirits tuned high.”

I stopped. “Thanks, I will.” I turned around. I walked back to the garbage bin and looked at him. He hadn’t moved. He was just sloshing bits of the remaining liquid inside him up into the air, catching it again in his straw. I reached in and pulled him out. I looked at him some more. He said nothing. I said nothing. We walked back to the picnic table. I placed him back where I found him; in the original moisture circle. It was almost gone by now, but I found it without difficulty. The cup began blowing bubbles inside itself. I picked it up again and put my lips to the straw. It was the sweetest soda I’d ever tasted. 

Children follow Children. And as we are Children, we are led to dance.

We are all just children. No matter how we primp or strut or throw ourselves around, you can take a steak knife and cleanly slice away the layers of pretension. So do not be confused. He who pretends to be what he is not is of no threat. No jive or insult from one who is too hurried by life should be taken too deeply within. Just step aside. And let your troubles roll by.