Mr. Bojangles and Willy Wonka

Willy Wonka 003

“With sixty staring me in the face, I have developed inflammation of the sentence structure and definite hardening of the paragraphs.”  ~ James Thurber

Now here’s a quote that can only be addressed effectively by writing OMG. I don’t mind doing that but what has become of such pleasantries as facts and details? Mr. Thurber has not given us any idea of what exactly he is talking about, yet I know exactly what he means. That’s one of the reasons I write a blog post nearly every day, in fact it is why I have a blog at all. Things need to be stretched or they become rigid. Deny that fact at your own peril. Mark Twain called statements that were not quite lies and not quite truths stretchers. Stephan Colbert calls this method of communication truthiness. Take your pick. One is alive and one long dead. I’m going with the dead guy, k? Don’t get me wrong, I loves ya Stephan but I need to stretch!

The fine fella in today’s opening photograph is Willy Wonka. Did ya ever see a cat with an orange goatee before? It’s the darnedest thing. As for the name, I named the friggin cat. Our crew gets to name the cats when they come in, unless they are owner surrenders that are already named, in which case we have to keep the cat’s given name. The name Willy Wonka came to me in a brilliant flash of whimsy, a flash which is now long gone, and I miss it sorely. But back to names and cats. Most people rename the cats when they adopt, so we cat caregivers just have fun with the names. Willy was that last cat I named. I am the only man in a crew of seven caregivers. Choice is not something I see too often. That, of course, is a joke, a witticism, a remark that may have been better left unsaid. My bad. Working with six women is, of course, pure pleasure. You may quote me.

“He looked to me to be the eyes of age
as he spoke right out
He talked of life, talked of life, he laughed
clicked his heels and stepped” ~ Jerry Jeff Walker

My brother just sent me an iPhone video of Jerry Jeff Walker, performing live at a posh party, singing Mr. Bojangles. My brother’s going to posh Christmas parties down yonder in Austin and I’m naming formerly stray cats. There’s a certain poetry to that. I must savor the fact without analyzing it. Should I ever get a chance to name another cat it’s going to be Bojangles. And just an afterthought on the idea of one man and six women – do ya think it’s all easy and stuff, or do ya think I am one lucky man? Dude it’s like all smiley and stuff. I do my grumping in private. Sometimes it’s easy, sometimes it’s friggin hard, and sometimes I feel lucky. Luckiness prevails. Luck is more reliable than faith anyway. Says me. Faith is one sketchy provider. Luck gives its all when it comes to call. Faith whispers while luck speaks out loud. Ob la di ob la da. Lucky me.

Today’s whimsy is brought to you by the Winter Solstice. It was kinda odd, running into a psycho therapist that I worked with for a long time, and that meeting was at the laundromat. What? I thought. How can she not have a washing machine at home?! Of course I found out the reason she was there and not at home doing laundry. It was a valid reason, and yes she does have a washing machine of her very own. Another thing was that she and I were the only Anglos in a room full of Indians. Some were even speaking their native language, so the whole scene was kind of surreal for me. My therapist and I chatted for a few minutes and it was like getting a mini session for free. As I was ready to leave she hugged me and said “Happy Solstice”. Still in embrace she glanced up at the clock on the wall then remarking that the Solstice would be exact in one hour and forty minutes. They still have a clock on the wall in that laundromat. It’s a good thing because who in their right mind would break a warm embrace by reaching for their cell phone to get the time? Not me, not she. Embraces need to be timeless, k? Trust me, I know.

So, where does that leave me now? This morning is Monday. I really don’t feel like leaving the house. I am still tired. And yet there are cats! I’m guessing it’s about 40 or so. I don’t know who I will be working with today. It will be two women, that’s all I know. No, I don’t have to work with all six at one time. Just two, and that’s a lot easier than one. In closing I’d like to note that this is the longest post I have written in weeks.. I’ve just been too tired, too hazy, too ragged, too rudderless, too down. Too far. Winter Solstice is the time when the light returns. The dark god dies and the god of light returns. You can’t beat a deal like that.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

 

 

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