MadameBastet-Firing-Neurons

This is the Way the World Ends

...Not with a bang, but a whimper.
Not with a shot but a hanging at dawn
in a land so filled with death hardly anyone notices
the monster is gone.

Not with a tear but a funeral in state
and they will say he was good man, a righteous man
he forgave and he pardoned and changed another's Fate.

I am reading everything I can now...from magazines dating back to spring of this year to T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets, The Wasteland...Eliot says life is long but oh these days are so short...especially when I sleep until noon and spend the rest of the day trying to stave off funereal thoughts of nihilistic doom. I know you well, I say to these thoughts, hovering on the rough edges of my mind...I've seen you before, every year at this time. They laugh, the hollow laugh of those who know they've already won the game. I am reading books and newspapers and the backs of cereal boxes...my mind again seeking, seeking, seeking constant information, constant stimulation while I dream of a drug that would shut the whole bloody mess off for just a few precious hours.

Don't mind me, I'm in my glory - I've looked forward to this break for four months...but vacations are always double-edged swords for melancholy freaks like me. Got to be vigilant - especially this time of year, the most depressing time I think...not the end really, and not the beginning, not the middle, not the high, not the low, the long, slow descent into January. Hallmark is doing its goddamned best to rid of us of the gun metal grey meaninglessness of January...today beneath the bright glare of the fluorescent lights I walked down the card aisle and while the banners said "Christmas Cards" the cards were all Valentine's Day cards. Jesus H! That has got to be a fucking new record. December 29th - hell they could've been up the morning of the 26th for all I know. We'll just move from one consumer-driven holiday to the next, nevermind our lives.

So yes I hate January, no hate is not the right word. Despise? January brings the black dog to me, and even time off to relax is spent in a constant battle not to give in to the idea that all is futility, all is futility. Two precious kitten balls are sound asleep on the bed behind me, safe in the size of their tiny brains. Today while walking back home after picking up my mail I saw the most beautiful long-haired cat rolling around on the landing of some steps. It is cafe au lait in colour, and oh it wanted my attention so badly. It meowed and batted its big, pale blue eyes at me, and rolled on its back and practically begged me for....for...for what? I'm not sure. I don't know if someone owns it. There were a couple of empty apartments around the area. The cat wore no tag. What broke me was the feel of the skeleton beneath the cat's fur. It is so thin. It cried and followed me as I finally started to walk away...but it stopped at a certain point and would not move anymore. Nevertheless I came home and opened a big can of cat food, mixed in some dry and took it back to my new friend. He/She was sitting on the stair landing again and desperately hungry by the way the food was gobbled down. Now even my well-fed, fat little cats often act like they haven't been fed in ages so I know cats can put on a good show...but this little kitty's bones weren't lying. If someone does own it, I feel like putting a sign around the cat's neck saying "Feed your fucking animal." I don't think it'll follow me home, which is good because I can't take on another cat. People already give me grief for the two I have.

Oh! God! She's single! And almost 40! And she has two cats! Fucking crazy she is! Spinster! Old maid! Loony. She's one broomstick away from being that crazy lady down the street. Last year on December 30 I got a call from the vet telling me Zoe's tumour was not cancerous. Those are the best calls of your life, huh? Oh to hell with anyone who doesn't love animals or at least try and understand those who do. I don't even want to be around people who don't love animals. Yet I am. It's annoying.

So I'm going through these magazines backwards for some reason. I'm starting at the end and moving forward. Strange huh? Well sometimes if I see something I want to read I have to start at the beginning. But I felt like starting from the end.

I have cleaned this place for days now. I gave two giant bags of old clothes to the Good Will. I am having the hardest time giving things away....throwing things away. I am somewhat of a pack rat - a sentimentalist fool...and all it's gotten me is an apartment exploding with things. What to keep, what to let go of? Why do I feel the need to hold on to so much? I can let go of people in a day and yet spend hours agonizing over a pair of pants, or a favourite book. I bought three giant plastic bins from the hardware store to store stuff in. Stuff. My life is just surrounded with stuff. Granted, much of it is school and/or work related...so I need it and can't toss it. I need a bigger place, that's obvious. Not gonna happen in L.A.

I really should've titled this blog "This Blog is a Rambling Mess" as I go off in all different directions. Alas, my mum is coming over tomorrow afternoon and as Catzy wrote in her blog, mums are able to see a speck of dust a thousand miles away. My mother won't give me that look, she'll just say something subtle, like,
"This place is a sty! How can you live like this?" So that's one of the main reasons I've been up close and personal with the Windex bottle for a couple of days. And damn if this place wasn't hellishly dirty. That's what ignoring cleaning for weeks at a time will get me.

I cannot believe how much shit I've thrown away. I've tossed a ton of video tapes - I don't even know what's on them anymore. I just can't stand the sight of them cluttering up the place. Bag after bag after bag of...what? The detritus of my amazingly meaningless life?

So they hanged Saddam Hussein, three years after they found him in a spider hole. And yet the war criminals live on. Who killed more Iraqis....Saddam or the United States of America? Oh don't worry, I'm no apologist for maniacal, murderous dictators. I'm not shedding any tears for the passing of that monster. It is hard to imagine going into 2007 knowing what insanity began in 2003.
My mind continues to reel. The laundry must be changed out. I wish I could drink. The killers killed a killer.

"And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And I pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss..."

- from "Preludes" by T.S. Eliot

Photo: My voice before I came to be...Thomas Stearns Eliot.