A Tiny Universe in Your Hand Made of Stringy Oil, Cats' Hair
Fleabus, photo from Monday night past, now in dotage, eats too much then won't eat at all, still poops in box but pisses next to it, kidneys drying to raisins, the meds and the special RX food she eats too much then won't eat at all working as well as possible says vet, the cat is eighteen, now going blind too, like the old fuck below, photo from last night, in hat knit by Planet holding the phone with a Fleabus protective case, a gift from Planet
Animals distill into their essence getting older, Fleabus getting sweeter day by day, the fuck below more sideways
Washington Post has an article on digital front page: Why Do People Mistreat Dogs, won't link to, won't read, will rip out my blinding eyes with a butterknife before I look at the photos, need more proof the eternal and infinite assholosity of humans than sillyass helmetball which is only the finest metaphor? watch in reality how humans treat animals (including the shittiest animal when they can, daydream of doing so if they can't)
I work at a university whose most profitable programs teach students to Zero Sum Win at Clusterfuck, it's training for Shitlordia, I particularly like how cohorts are mandatory, Shitlordia HR using death matches in each cohort then pitting cohort top dogs against each other to find the brightest, most amoral ensigns they can then make more vicious and sociopathic by dangling bonuses and promotions over their noses. So no, Democrats won't save you, the university I work at gave you Bill Clinton
I have two utterly useless in a professional sense degrees from the university where I work- I took (and still have) the tool job before I took advantage of tuition benefits and then getting fun but useless degrees, a BA in Antifa Hand Signals and an MA in Critical Race Theory, was fun! you are reading this because my trajectory would be different had Earthgirl not badgered me to apply to a job I thought you'd need at least a college degree to get
Link in part related to my thinking about Auster writing an autobiography of Crane which made me think about Henry James (who is the half the subject at the link) and my peculiar itch to read James though every single voluntary attempt (I read, and disliked, for assignments) fails, but two dear friends, both whose opinions I trust and value, tell me that once I get the breakthrough I will work my way through James' canon, and for some nagging reason I think they're right
Be brave to things as long as As long as As long as the plot thickens As long as you hold a tiny universe in your hand made of stringy oil, cats’ hair, tobacco, remnants Of what was once wide. As it was once as long as, the plot thickens. Be brave to thinkers in the night, rusted boxes, anything That has dimension. As if it were a foot wide Tall, square, as long as boxes Were.
