Ladies and gentlemen, cats and kittens, we come once again to the highlight of any working person’s week: Friday.
Friday? I can do it on my head – especially in light of the looming three-day weekend.
But what’s that you say? If only we had some inkling of what was before us? If only we knew how to prepare for it, whether or not there be a need for sensible shoes or a full box of Kleenex?
But we do! Come closer. You hear that? It’s my iPod. O shuffling iPod, auditory accompaniment to the morning commute, provider of grooves both ridiculous and sublime and of egos un-reined, what is in our immediate future?
Heavy Cross by Gossip
Woodstock by Crosby Stills Nash and Young
Halfway Home by TV on the Radio*
Neighbors by Gnarls Barkley
Valerie by Amy Winehouse (with Mark Ronson)
Psychotic Reaction by The Count Five
Keep the Car Running by Arcade Fire
Well I asked for it, didn’t I? Songs of longing and hope, naïvete and pain.
I wonder if partying would help?
At any rate, it seems there’s been a lot on my mind of late. Frankly, I’m a seeker of patterns. Seems to me that if I could just find the pattern that I would know what to expect. The pattern I’ve been seeing lately, however, leaves me shaking my head and reaching for sturdy walls.
For the last two days, I’ve shared some bits about Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) and Dolly Gee Squeakers (formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers).
Harmless fluff, yes? Silly meanderings of an untethered mind, no?
I got off the bus yesterday, ran into my friend Steve on the sidewalk, and we walked up the steps and into the front porch to be met by the through-the-screen-door-into-the-living-room view of the downstairs renter waltzing.
And I swear this is true: his partner was his cat.
Truth be told, they were a handsome couple, Matt and Abner (Abner’s the cat), cutting a rug on the dance floor of their living room. I nudged Steve in the ribs and pointed with my nose as Matt held Abner tight, and then dipped him, in three-four time.
The cat struggled to remain dignified.
Steve and I struggled as well.
It was a valiant struggle, but one lost in the end, as Matt finished the dance with a flourish and then held Abner up, under his fuzzy little armpits, raised him into the air and declared, “You dance divinely. Yes you do! Yes you do!"
I, of course, said nothing; and Steve and I took the door next to the door that led to man-on-cat dancing and walked up the flight of steps that led to my place.
Some behavior defies patterns.
And I’m glad.
*If I were to recommend a new band for your listening scrutiny, it would be TV on the Radio. If I were NOT to recommend a new band, I would keep my mouth shut.
But you know me.