love muffins

this is Pistol. he is a 3 pawed kitten.

a month ago, my dad and brother found an itty bitty kitten in the lane of a busy highway. he was bloody and had been run over. he was in shock and his paw was in pieces. they took the itty bitty kitten to the vet and the vet, whom is a long term friend of my parent's, said the itty bitty kitten was not going to live. today, the itty bitty kitten came home. he has three paws and waves his little nub and bounces around and is ridiculously adorable. U am in love.

orange kitten under an orange bmw

sunday morning rawr

 this is a new thrift store find. it is a vintage double knit so it has easily become my new favorite shirt. 

same old sleepy face. idk how people post photos of what they wear everyday, especially sunday morning when it is a wear the clothes off the floor kind of a day. last night i rolled into bed at 3a and woke up at 7a to go to the island and feed this wildcat

whom i've named butters.

we are going to the Buddhist temple this morning. i've got to brush my teeth. happy sunday.

lips won't last forever.

i moved. i no longer live in the miniature house that, because i am definitely a late bloomer, was where i spanned my most formative years. leaving my little house was sort of sad, only because since i was terribly small have had this crushing feel for nostalgia that just distorts everything in my heart into a constant pounding drum. this drum marks the steps between there and the next part. when i was little i used to cry every christmas night because it would be another christmas gone another year gone and i have always always hated the new year.

i always have the greatest intentions of attending new years parties and things like this, i even make a dress for these occasions, but i hate that sinking feeling of the ball dropping and i hate that sad shrinking people start to feel as two or three am comes around. all that stumbling and mourning. no thank you. usually i take a sleeping pill and live in dreams through the new year, waking up to that feeling of breaking though the surface of the sea. i far prefer that.

maybe this aching nostalgia is weighted so much by the drum, but probably more so by the construction of my family and of my family home, and the true separatist way i was raised. waking up with neighbors next door and not being able to walk nude to the kitchen to make coffee is a definite adjustment. this adjustment is no easy feat. just this morning i stumbled to the kitchen after a shower, making sure the back windows in the sun room

were properly fogged to hide any pale shadow of me, to make coffee in usual form. not two minutes after i finished, my neighbor friend texted, "good morning, sunshine!!!!!!" funny stuff. seriously funny stuff. but i am not one to ever change my habits unless something truly embarrassing or truly relentless happens, then i consider. when i was a kid a boy that was far older than I used to climb a tree outside my bedroom window, watch me change, and climb the roof and watch me shower through the skylight. one night while i was outside, i saw him on the roof. i went inside and told my parents and they were dumbstruck. he ended up dropping his cellphone outside my window while he was climbing down the tree and later came back to retrieve it. my dad put a gun to his head and said a few words, and i never saw that boy again. nor did i change my habits for window dressing.

the day i moved away a tiny little kitten showed up in the enormous pecan tree next to my miniature house. her mew was so high pitched, my parent's thought she was a bird until they went looking and found a baby in the tree.

my mom named her suzy q after my grandma. but i prefer to call her cookie because whenever i get to see her i get to say, "it's cookie time!" and i like to call her tiger beat because she's so pretty and spunky and has big ol eyes like all of the best heart throbs.

i probably always miss things that never need my missing at all. but if they ever do, i think it helps the heart to know that they are richly thought of and loved very well, despite anything else.

..but this is my little monster.

his name is Sailor because when I got him he had scabies and a broken leg. 

babs.

 

i am i love with this little animal.

dont say slow.

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after work yesterday and everything was grey and cold. danielle came over and she was wearing the pretty wedges from the wedding and her hair was in pigtails and she was wearing this light brown sweater, feather earrings. everything about her light. i had my hair knotted up dressed in black tights and tight tee with a grey vintage sweater and clunky knee boots and my vintage sergeant pepper red coat. i love this coat and its orange silk lining. and i like big things over tight things. i like looking like i carry a gun on some days. though every day i dress to an idea, a feeling. last nights idea was destroy it all. wake up tomorrow. do it again. dressing is almost as important as the time. clothing sets the mood.

danielle and i drank a bottle of vodka in three hours.

and this was a considerable bottle of vodka.

we made vegan lentil soup, that we finally ate after half the bottle was gone. we listened to music, made plans, went through my closet and gossiped. like we always do. danielle left around eleven, i think, when there was already ice on the windshield and the lock on my car was frozen locked and i couldnt get anywhere else. no one likes big plans on wednesdays but sometimes i just get in the head space where i want everything to be loud and full i want the rooms crowded and the bodies warm. the girls in short skirts and the boys with all the best moves. at this point i passed out and woke up to an enormous vomiting stint while my kitten was purring at my knees. which is a strange thing. it was like when my mom used to hold my hair back when i would come home at 6a after partying all night, trying to shake myself of all the things i hated. trying to give up the ghosts so i could just keep going.

i am so rational about the way i go about things. i could be doing the worst things ever and my friends will try to talk me out of it, but in the end, i talk them into it. then i get into some heavy situations that i have to fight my way out of, i have to kick out the walls and crawl from the hole and get back home and tell all the stories about it. last night danielle and i were talking about what rotten kids we were in high school. all the drugs i did how i used to tear down the walls. how i was still a virgin when i was at my worst, which is sort of how i feel now, extremely in my own mind. pulling everything apart just to put it back together. i am obsessed with the destruction : reconstruction. the romantic ambivalence of being in the world.

and it never stops. last night on the telephone i was asked if i was scared of anything. no. never. we die. we get old. we die. i guess im most scared of not being able to keep moving. to loose my limbs, to be laid up until the day i die. not being able to do or focus. being trapped. that is the only thing that scares me. worst of all.

this afternoon i had this strange dream like an omen. i was in a kitchen and this girl i like, this girl i always have looked up to, was going through all of the cupboards, slamming all of the doors. she turned to me and said, “i just dont know what to do, now that i cant think about myself, i cant worry about my body. being thin—i really liked that. now i dont know what to think about.” then this boy that i used to know, this boy who would tell me his secrets, who ended up running to the other side of the world and got himself married to a rotten girl, he walked in the kitchen and hugged me and said, “youre the girl thats impossible to hold on to.”

i woke up with my little kitten licking my nose. i read two magazines and worked on a new dress design. i helped my mother hang plastic over plants and around the hot tub to keep the wind away. i dreamed about boys and sent out letters. my father has been laid up in bed for three weeks, sick to his stomach, but refuses to go to the doctor. my grandmother has been in the hospital. she is dying and she just got home. she has been dying my whole life. fears are easy to find reasons for.