To rate my misery on a scale of 1 to 10, I’m about an 8, mitigating factors being the strong sun, my in-house cat colleague being not particularly needy and verbose, not knattering on about the diss-jointed catniptripped dreams she hitchhiked on of the hairless talls. Instead there is the pleasant stillness of the hairless talls, perched as birds on the edge of their chairs. I hop up behind one, curl into the hollow of a back, out of sight of those predator spaced eyes, within the envelop of his energy and heat. By my symbiotic presence we have the refuge of mutual company, needing no more communication than this.

Analogous to the pupil dilating to new moons, or sliding to a hairline slit, so too does perspective widen and narrow according to internal and external conditions. When a an pupil is wide, stomach is full and still, inferior or superior does not even factor in. One is invinceable and gorgeous. Power is moot. Intelligence is an assumed underlying root that need not be questioned. When the world is dark and hot, night’s energy’s pulses obvious dark beauty. When one feels so well, a love of acceptance rather than gratefulness, comes easily. Appreciation is as smooth of reach, as unthinkingly achieved as licking one’s own butt.

In contrast, I’ve noticed when my digestion is at its peak of imperfection, such as today with more vomits than seagull flybys, the world is most unsatisfactory. The passably utilitarian and clean food bowl seems ugly, unsanitary, poorly thought out and badly placed, the aethetics of a tolerable space grate, the range of pleasing lightedness diminishes, my startleability spikes and patience declines. If left alone, I pine, my stomach churns, and more often than not comes out.

I scan the 150° around from my nose but it makes me a trifle motionsick. My swoozy vision is not the cause but an effect. As much as I let it be, as much as I observe me, knowing this too will pass, (most likely with a spattering flatulence,) I still feel out of sorts, fighting my own body. I know it’s natural enough to be irritable when the body is playing hookie with the mind. It’s also natural to just want the illness to pass quickly. I try to do what I can but I get overruled, hissed at, when I try homeopathic medicine of papyrus plants. They’ve now put a guard around the stems so I can’t reach the succulent leaves. Today I feel too fatigued to even grouch or commiserate more.

Knowing how I feel, how cynical I will be given the state of my energies, I’d rather just sleep it off if I can. Once flickr is back up perhaps you’ll catch me cat napping so there can be a more up to date shot than the one from August of me.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will take leave of you. Make good use of your hours between naps?
Mror power to you.