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2001-07-04 / 5:48 p.m. ~Low~
Her tail brushes up against the books in the bookcase as she eats, and she's dusting the shelf without realizing it, her tail a long feather duster not made of feathers, but of hair, long and fluffy cat's hair. I take a picture of them eating the food from the can that Linda bought and gave to me. Two cans, a little gift, because she thought I'd like it, as if they were cans of food for me. Why do people do that? Give me presents for the cats as if they're presents for me? It's not the first time, but she said it was because I am a sweet person and I didn't understand her sudden shift, not at all. I thought I was a racist, Lind? What happened? Who turned you around? So I feed them food from this can and take a picture as evidence, because Linda actually asked me for an update, "How did your cats like the food?", and I had to confess that they never eat canned food, and she said I shouldn't give it to them then, it will make them sick, but I assured her a small amount would not, that it was indeed alright. A photo as evidence. Look, Linda, here they are, enjoying the present you gave me, the food, for them. See? A letter to Steve today, only just a short while ago, a "hi" letter, as in "hi, how are you, i am fine", written normally, in upper and lower cases, a healthy mixture like that of which I and many others are so fond, other non-diaryland writers, but the feeling was lower case. Just a note, to say, goddammit, I wish I could talk to you, I wish we had maintained that initial rush, that intense prolonged yet very temporary intimacy. So much to remember from the book I'm reading. Wonderful lines I wish I could remember, just to quote to people, but I know I don't have that ability, that capacity to remember, I'd need to pick up the book, leaf through the pages, find what I mean to say, what she said, and quote it. But one I haven't forgotten, the only one so far was a quote from Dante, and I don't know if it was from Inferno, or if he wrote lots more, I haven't read him, but it was this, Dante's idea of Hell: "proximity without intimacy". And when I read that, re-reading this book, the second time I read it, because I can't remember the first, I almost cried. My breath caught, I sort of gasped with the idea of it, and I thought simply Yes. Here are a couple I'd need to look up to quote, but it makes them no less valid: "Back at your apartment, you pour him a glass of wine. On your sofa, he holds your hand in both of his, tickling and touching it, lingering at the crotches between your fingers. I really liked that, "like a dream he wants to keep having", "the crotches between your fingers". I wish I could write like that. And this: "She stood in the doorway in her pretty floral dress, a watercolor of her former self." And this: "My theory was that if you had breasts, boys wanted to have sex with you, which wasn't exactly a big compliment, since they wanted to have sex anyway. Whereas if you had a beautiful face, like Julia, boys fell in love with you, which seemed to happen almost against their will. Then the sex that you had would be about love. From The Girl's Guide to Hunting and Fishing, by Melissa Bank, which so far is nothing about hunting, nor fishing, but maybe it will be soon, as the last story is the title story. Cost of the War in Iraq
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