Friday, February 27, 2015


Desire imports something absent: and a need of what is absent. The cat's eyes fill with mucus; what he sees he sees through film. Small children can't tell need from want, necessity from desire. The cat's desire is all necessity: his dish, the spot by the window when there's sun. Touch and taste were hands and lips; the class exercise turned to expressions of love. My son wears a bracelet with his girlfriend's name on it. I wear a ring on my left hand. Ruth held a long dry leaf, ran it along the railing like a prayer wheel. What we hold sacred is at hand. I wipe out my cat's eyes with a Kleenex; he turns away, orange cheeks stained brown. We consider the ethics of feeding, the stain of wiping the cat's anus. There is no prince of this prom; we are equal citizens in the end-of-life.

--27 February 2015

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