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contours provocations
journal - 2001-0216 - fri 2330 Cat food, tiny creatures, big beaks, no flowers, a cowboy, desolate streets It is near midnight, and I'm very tired. But I wanted to make an effort at an entry. (Well, actually I started writing this on Friday evening and am finishing it on Saturday evening.) Yesterday when I got home, I fed the cats the last three cans of putty kat food, and stumbled out the door to drive to PetsMart to buy more putty katt food. PM is always interesting. By the door, there are several cases for tiny mice, so itty bitty that several could easily sleep in a tea cup. They are so adorable and cute. They burrow in the sawdust and nuzzle against the glass. I wonder if they know I'm watching. I buy four boxes of tins, and head for the door; always on the lookout for people who bring their pets with them. I always get a kick out of chatting with the creatures great and small. And almost always, people are appreciative. In addition to always being on the lookout etc., I'm carefully scouting the horizon for some humpy, butch guy in bulging tight jeans who happens to have his parrot with him. "Oh! What a big beak you have! Want to come to my house for a cracker?" St. V's day has come and gone. No flowers by the door did I find. No heart-shaped card appeared in my mail box. No box of jelly babies. No invite to a romantic dinner. No funny balloons. Zilch! Nada! Null! Empty! Several years, I thought I was in love with a law student I met on AOL. He lived in Philadelphia, and our chances of meeting were nil. He had the most wonderful voice that excited me no end. I sent him flowers for Valentine's Day. He lived with his parents at the time. He told me when he got home, his father said, "Some girl from the law school sent you flowers!" He was a sweet guy, but I lost contact with him. (Nicky, if you're out there, call.) Thursday was hot. Not just warm but hot. The digital thermometers along the Interstate said 85 at one point. When I got home, I had to turn on the AC. This morning was warm, but by ten rain began to move in and the temp rapidly dropped. A few minutes after I arrived at Chills for lunch, the monsoon started. Rain lashed and poked the windows. Within minutes the streets were flooded. I sat in my booth and stared out into the wet fury. As I was waiting at the door to leave, I almost collided with an incoming cowboy in dark jeans, white western shirt, and a tan hat. "Shure is raining," he said, all friendly like. In reply, I managed a primordial grunt. I should have said something witty like, "Where's your horse?" After work, I went out to dinner with a friend, We talked of computers, and movies, and television, and QAF. I dropped him off and wandered home in the desolate night. The streets were deserted. I felt as if I had been transported to a 40s film noir. PAX!
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