Not now!

Why do you gotta always be putting that camera in my face, woman?? Can’t you see I’m trying to nap here?

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PS: Thank you to everyone at the Special Collections Library at Duke University for the lovely card. It truly warmed my heart to get it. Thank you.

Thank you!

Thank you Michelle, for the YouTube pointer. I couldn’t figure out how to email you or I would have emailed you to thank you.

Speaking of thank you’s, thank you Alaska (I can’t find your name, forgive me) for reminding me about this poem:

ON THE DEATH OF A CAT

In life, death
was nothing
to you: I am
willing to wager
my soul that it
simply never occurred
to your nightmareless
mind, while sleep
was everything
(see it raised
to an infinite
power and perfection) — no death
in you then, so now
how even less. Dear stealth
of innocence
licked polished
to an evil
luster, little
milk fang, whiskered
night
friend —
go.

From “God’s Silence” by Franz Wright, copyright 2006 by Franz Wright, published in arrangement with Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House Inc.

More Kings Park

Kevin sent me more great pictures, but of course my favorite one is of ME! Pretending to be afraid of a ghost, I think. Christ! Do I have the stickyist stick fingers ever or what?

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Kings Park

My friend Kevin sent me this picture from our visit to an abandoned mental hospital in Kings Park, LI.

I like his composition.

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Disturbing a Cat (Not Done)

A book review had this line, it was a loving tribute to her cat, it went something like, “to (cat’s name), who sat on my work for 18 years.”

When I was organizing my Duke papers, I’d start with a decade, and make one pile for each year. The cats would come and pick a pile and sit on it. I’d have to make alternate piles. So 1952 became 1952 and 1952B, and so on. And I have two cats.

Except – I’M DONE. So there! Take that cats! Go find a magazine or book I want to read and sit on that! That’s right. No more piles of papers. I’ve foiled you this time, cats.

Here is Finney in a relatively benign spot. On top of a box on top of the armoire. He loves that box.

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