Monthly Archives: September 2002


I wouldn’t con­sider myself a jeal­ous per­son. After all, how can one be jeal­ous when one is sure of one­self? It’s a con­tra­dic­tion to me. Almost always, in my rela­tion­ships, this is true. However, a spe­cial case has come up, and I am jeal­ous, an emo­tion I haven’t expe­ri­enced in a long while. Yet there is noth­ing I can do about it. I can only sit here and take it. This isn’t some­thing that I can change about myself. I am very inse­cure about this, and I have rea­son to be.

This jeal­ousy nib­bles inside me, cre­at­ing an odd world of dys­thymia. As long as I am jeal­ous, I will be able to write and learn. God, I sound like some­thing out of a Graham Greene novel. I was once afraid that I was becom­ing bor­ing, hav­ing been given much in life, with noth­ing to write about.

Ah, well, let’s lay this issue to rest for today until I learn some more, and I can see the sit­u­a­tion more clearly.

I do need to clear my head.

Put on some Chopin Nocturne

This one hurts.

God, I’m tired. I spent the entire day run­ning errands. I took my kit­ten to the vet, which was a fairly painful expe­ri­ence. A bitchy, though red-headed, sec­re­tary “served” me. The appoint­ments were an hour behind sched­ule. I decided to hold off on a con­fir­ma­tion of the name until I felt com­fort­able with it, which I cur­rently do not. I’m fuck­ing tired.

There’s some­thing about a girl with long, slen­der, del­i­cate fin­gers. They seem to speak of an intel­li­gence not expressed in any other way. They way they move, the way they touch, the way they look. Sometimes dex­ter­ity is so sim­ply an attrac­tive fea­ture that one misses it, while being drawn to other, more opu­lent features.


This kit­ten is so impor­tant to me right now. I think that this will be the clos­est thing to hav­ing kids for me. But as a human infant is dynamic and ever chang­ing, cre­at­ing a volatile envi­ron­ment of order, a cat is more sta­tic, leav­ing the pos­si­bil­ity of bore­dom. This would be my worst night­mare. I hope I never grow tired of her. I hope “the nov­elty” never wears off. This life is my respon­si­bil­ity, and it will be the great­est test of my tol­er­ance yet. Of course, there may be noth­ing in it; she may sim­ply be a won­der­ful pet, which she is so far, cre­at­ing a mutu­al­is­tic sym­bio­sis which I would gladly be a part of.

And, as one can tell, I’m get­ting ahead of myself. I’m see­ing some­things a lit­tle too far into the future, while I look at other things too unfo­cused to be viewed prop­erly. If the jaguar is truly my totem, then I should be able to find pat­terns within this chaos, find some mean­ing in my present situation.

“a solid in the rip­pling water”

Living With A Cat

I’m extremely tired. My kit­ten kept me up all night. She took the mid­dle of the bed, so I kinda had to sleep around her. I kept wak­ing up, every time I needed to shift posi­tions, scared that I would crush her. I’ve been play­ing with her dur­ing the evening so she loses a bit of the noc­tur­nal instinct to go crazy at night. I named her Dolly, after Nobokov’s char­ac­ter Dolores Haze. I needed to keep the name under two syl­la­bles, and I think that it’s a good sym­bol of the way one can never tell whether a cat or human is the mas­ter, just as you couldn’t tell whether Dolores or Humber was in control.

I feel so unor­ga­nized. I have so many things to do it seems. Take care of this, take care of that. I think that I’ve brought a lot of respon­si­bil­ity on myself, adopt­ing a kit­ten, apply­ing for a Big Brother posi­tion, doing this and doing that. I think that I feel much more mature and impor­tant when I do all this. Perhaps it’s a cry for atten­tion, but I doubt it. It feels like I’m sud­denly being over­loaded with things to do. I didn’t fin­ish a sin­gle one of the three assign­ments that I had due this week. I’ve actu­ally been los­ing sleep, which is an extremely rare thing for me.

I felt so guilty about those assign­ments. I’m pretty sure that I failed one of them. I just need to keep every­thing in per­spec­tive, some­thing that Sam taught me so long ago it seems. Everything feels so chaotic, spi­ral­ing out­wards like Yeats’ fal­con from the fal­coner. Not that I think the Second Coming as at hand, of course, but things just seem so com­pli­cated right now. They’re noth­ing com­pared to other peo­ples’ prob­lems, I know, but I’m not use to being so responsible.