Travels in the sub-real
My poor Siamese cat really has been in the wars. She hasn't quite been the same since drinking from a puddle of anti-freeze (apparently cats love it's sweet taste) out of my parents' neighbour's garage nearly a year ago. Whilst her return to health then was described by our vet as 'miraculous'- from this, an expedient recovery is less certain. Her body is riddled with tumors inside; one of which has pressed against a nerve in her spinal column enabling control of her hind legs. It's a sad sight indeed to witness her dragging them behind. She's perky in and of herself, alive and well- but dignified this is not. She may have to be put down, but I extolled to Mother over the telephone how you wouldn't kill your brother if he lost a leg.. But should you?
So I've caught up with Potter again this Eostar weekend. Watched friends' band LongTomb in the Holt last night with a new bassist; awake for 24 hours. Portuguese attitude behind the bar is a very sexy thing indeed. Say nothing. Also good: Porto-mojitos, seeing Patrick the chicken still alive (to think how close he came...) and a fantastic (if lucky) Arsenal win.
I have forever felt some degree of liminality in Devon. It's rare, generally, that I feel a sense of belonging. This of course has benefits and drawbacks; I can't help but feel both arrogant and inferior simulatenously. Nomads should be humble. Regardless of any emotional detachment though, that place is in my past and I have nothing more to say to it or gain from it. Fitting then that I should finish Pinter's The Homecoming on my travels. I have to say I felt a certain affinity with Teddy.
It's as clean and clear as sugar-free Jazz. This week holds much. An intriguing 9/11 truth seminar (internet conspiracies touted by Uni professors? ROFL HAHA oh), seeing Phil tomorrow when he wakes up (night shift) and then, of course, the Arsenal game on Wednesday with Tom. Am really looking forward to this whole week, actually.
So I've caught up with Potter again this Eostar weekend. Watched friends' band LongTomb in the Holt last night with a new bassist; awake for 24 hours. Portuguese attitude behind the bar is a very sexy thing indeed. Say nothing. Also good: Porto-mojitos, seeing Patrick the chicken still alive (to think how close he came...) and a fantastic (if lucky) Arsenal win.
I have forever felt some degree of liminality in Devon. It's rare, generally, that I feel a sense of belonging. This of course has benefits and drawbacks; I can't help but feel both arrogant and inferior simulatenously. Nomads should be humble. Regardless of any emotional detachment though, that place is in my past and I have nothing more to say to it or gain from it. Fitting then that I should finish Pinter's The Homecoming on my travels. I have to say I felt a certain affinity with Teddy.
It's as clean and clear as sugar-free Jazz. This week holds much. An intriguing 9/11 truth seminar (internet conspiracies touted by Uni professors? ROFL HAHA oh), seeing Phil tomorrow when he wakes up (night shift) and then, of course, the Arsenal game on Wednesday with Tom. Am really looking forward to this whole week, actually.