Socrates: “who would have thought there were so many things in the world which I do not want!” Our cat lurches a zigzag jig from maroon blanket to kitchen to carpet. Restlessness is a sign, I read. He propels himself toward the door, as if momentum were a kind of direction. It's raining, so he cannot find his sun spot. He peers out the louvered window beside our shoes. I do not want him to die. I do not want him to live. I do not want for not wanting.
--20 February 2015