never a frown

i was raised in a very demonstrative household, probably to a fault. there was hysterical laughter and holes punched in walls and tires squealing out of the driveway and parents always holding hands and leaving love notes everywhere. I've seen my parents cry and kiss and get drunk and get high and fight and make up. that is my normal. we didn't always know why, but we certainly all knew HOW everyone felt. I could hear my mother from another part of the house, by herself, and she would spontaneously singsong "I love you!" she still calls my dad "ditto." he calls her "scooter." I don't think I've ever asked them why. I will.
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until very recently, I assumed everyone was raised that way. stoicism and reticence can't possibly be defaults... but maybe they can. apparently they are.
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I got home from work and the house smelled like piss again. I sat down and Tiresias crawled into my lap. stretched out contentedly. started to purr. ever since he was a kitten I've picked him up and pressed my cheek to the side of his head, to listen to him purr. he goes totally limp. I have no fucking idea what I should do. I asked both doctors today about amitryptalline and other drug therapy; neither of them reccommend it. I priced more laminate flooring- the cheapest I found was $.69/foot and looked it. I looked on craigslist for noncarpeted lairs. "why don't you just make him an outdoor cat?" someone suggested. "because he has NO EYES" I said. "oh." she paused. "that's a problem."
I feel like a festering spinster hag to be obsessing over this- as if I should clear the cobwebs from my vagina with a fucking machete- but fuck. FUCK. this is the cat who once fit in my hand. he's always been golden. brilliant. enough of an asshole to remain entertaining. I don't want to debate his life because of an issue that obviously bothers ME a lot more than it bothers HIM. fucking boy cats. never again.
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I realize I am writing about my cat, and that's tedious. enough. some people have kids and shit. I dunno. maybe it's vaguely similar.
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apparently they are serving deep-fried kool-aid at the San Diego fair. there are recipes on teh internets. didn't appear to suck.
you know what would be fucking delicious? deep-fried caramello bars. do they even make those any more? in lieu of that, deep-fried rollos would be good- finger food for a succubus.
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I had another manic fit last week, which is always an effective self-starter, so I'm going to Montreal next month. I always need something on the fucking horizon. besides, I've noticed that the everyday world gets a lot more fucking compelling when you have the option to be elsewhere.

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