yes of course � i forgot to tell the part when i told mischka that he is nothing but a
vicious misanthrope. now i have left nothing out.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:bean went to the doctor today & has to go back next week so they can tell definitively if she has asthma. we are faced with the horrific possibility that we may not be able to harbor our cats any longer. when i think of this i start to cry.
bean said, "but what if it meant i would die if we kept them?" & then i teared up more.
our cats look like this painting by th�ophile steinlen:
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:i just scratched my lower lip open. it was such a half-hearted gesture that i can't believe it actually resulted in the breaking of skin.
it feels a little throbby.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:i don't know why i'm so disjointed now. i don't know why i'm not at mass now. i like the fall & winter feasts of obligation, i like to go to mass when it is very dark outside but inside the church is very warmly-lit & all the people are crowded in.
i like november. i like my coat whipping up around my legs in the wind as i wait downtown for the changing light to stop the cars.
(today i realized that these poems that i am writing are all sea, are all house. maybe it is my brain prodding me to read more jung.)
(that was a lie, earlier, when i said i had left nothing out. andrew wrote me a letter & i think it says "Each entry is an odd-shaped puzzle piece of your life + I have no idea how to join them together." i could be wrong. his handwriting is bad. at first i thought "gold-shaped," which i rather like. anyway i leave everything out.)
