Feline Warrior

October 30, 2006, 11:30 pm: Garbanzo Carlos A. died in the arms of his loving mom, Franque. He was 17-years old. His little sisters Frieda and Lily were present. Garbanzo was cremated and now lies in state in his former home, on the mantle near his life-partner, the late-Claudia Sophia A., who passed away in 2002.

Garbanzo was originally from the Georgetown neighborhood of Washington, DC. He was a constant and comforting companion to his mother, who selected him from the litter on his second day of life. Garbanzo was known for his lion-like build and his ability to sense and weed out evil people.

Garbanzo is greatly missed by all who knew him.

I was trapped in traffic. It was awful: Lift foot from brake, roll a few feet, reapply pressure to brake. Wait. Repeat. For miles it was like that. When it finally opened up I eagerly applied pressure to the accelerator and began the zoom to work. But just as the zoom was picking up -say, at the “zo” of “zoom”- I saw her there on the side of the road. A deer, clearly wounded, although for a second one might think she was merely sitting at the side of the road watching the cars go by. But no, she couldn’t move from her spot, and she was looking around, trying to push up with her front legs, arching her neck as she searched for a familiar face, perhaps. And her eyes met mine -at least I feel that they did- and I did nothing. I kept going. I was late for work. She was, I think, early for death.

This happened on Thursday morning. It is now 11:30 pm on Friday. Although I’m not sure what I could have -or should have- done, I feel terribly guilty.

Hey-hi-ho. Yes, I’m talkin’to you. It’s been weird, you know (or you prolly don’t, or maybe you do, depending on who you are -would that be “whom,” what with the double pronouns?) but some death again, this time so close to home as to be (one) in my home and (the other) one half of the duo responsible for my creation. So many emotions, remembering the past, remembering stuff I don’t want to remember, more stuff that is, essentially, okay to remember - perhaps even essential to remember, in fact.

I need to clean up the blog some - revamp, I think. Un-clog the blog, use the blog to de-fog, make some changes. It’s coming. Today’s the first time I’ve been able to access my pages and had time to write, so prolly won’t do cleaning right now. It’s kinda late, had a nice dinner, another evening of “togetherness” being interpreted in different ways - sadly by the people being together.

(Answer me a riddle: If two people are in the same room for three hours and the television is on the entire time, for the most part at a volume just loud enough to prevent conversation is that the same or different than if for that same amount of time, one of those people was in said room with the television at said volume and the other person was in another room, perhaps writing, reading, making jewelry, or hell, even mindless surfing? If one version is called “being together,” why is not the other? Does breathing the same noise-polluted air equal togetherness? If so, how come?)

I’ve been having some crazy ideas about things, about the world, energy, and have been working on some theories about energy input and output; human-made and machine-made; made with love -or at the very least, care- or made under duress and in poor conditions. What the world needs now is love, sweet love, but will it get that sweet love if individually and collectively, her inhabitants are willing only to give plastic-coated, sugar-free candy-filled hearts?

There will be more, I hope. It’s my plan to come back here sooner than 6 months from now. Plan, plan, plan. I think I can do it.