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As I'm writing an essay (on sentiment in film montage) at my computer desk which overlooks a quiet street.... Specifically, as I typed a (backhanded) compliment to a filmmaker (which I should probably delete now that I realize how passive-aggressive my sentence was), a black cat crossing the street caught my eye.
The flap of his left ear was folded back like moistened construction paper.
And his mouth opened a bit; I could see the pink of his tongue.
And then right before he stepped into my yard another black cat followed his steps like paws painted on concrete.
With the exact black construction paper fold in his left ear! It was beautiful, uncanny coincidence.
They walked a single, straight path until they were both under the ledge of my window, now near the outline of my house.
Maybe following and leading as a single unit today, tomorrow and the next day and the next.
More consistent than a shadow in the fog we have in Houston at the moment.
It's comforting; the uncanny always is. It's the sense of feeling alive because of the randomness, the realization of your own realization -- and a gratefulness to the world for waking you up a teensy bit.
And it reminds me of the dream I had (this morning?) about a giant mountain lion -- well, a pack of giant mountain lions that were only made of dark grass and black gravel. How odd a combination these two experiences, now that I type them here...
And it reminds me of the dream I had (this morning?) about a giant mountain lion -- well, a pack of giant mountain lions that were only made of dark grass and black gravel. How odd a combination these two experiences, now that I type them here...
Forgive my rambling.
I've not been posting much, and returning spontaneously to think 'out loud' in type is one way of returning.
I've not been posting much, and returning spontaneously to think 'out loud' in type is one way of returning.
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from this week, in any but chronological order:
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