… in difference from euphemistic kittens.

Tomorrow, Mothersister will bring her two cats here; Isis and Nepthys. If I ever get two cats, I will call them Bastet and Sekhmet.
Not that I would ever get two cats, but I guess that’s for the best of all cats and felines involved.

Hopefully, all will go well. I will bring the rat, mice and cockroaches into my room. I’m not sure I want to share it with any living being, including the orangy creatures right now, and definitely not any more living beings… but extreme situations calls for extreme measures.

Also, watched Doctor Who earlier. Watched the episode Blink. I can’t even begin to describe my love for that episode. It is beautiful and subtly terrifying. But then, I have always known that statues actually do run around eating peoples’ life force, so perhaps I shouldn’t be trusted.
I mean, that is one of the reasons I love statues, and why they freak me out. A bit like dolls and mannequins, but made out of weathered, durable and solid stone…

Anyway, I should sleep since long back. But I can’t. And this mornings’ dreams (well, I slept to about half past five in the afternoon due to fever and sickness) are still bothering and hurting me.
I can never respect someone who puts herself in a collar..
It still hurts. It hurts so much.

And while we’re on the topic of the physical world: I really, really miss my male; my beautiful griffin, my Aiwendil. I miss him so much. I haven’t seen him in a month, or something like that. And he lives about an hour away from me. I’m pathetic. I should just go there and bite him lovingly.
But I can’t stand people right now. Not the sight, the stench or the sound of them. I can’t stand their stupidity, their tugging at me when I’m out. “Do you believe in the Devil?” I guess it must be the hat. Everyone wearing a black top hat believes in the Devil. And of course, the Christian Devil. (I do believe in Devil Doll, but it’s not the same thing. They have the cat-headed butterflies, and they are a perfect soundtrack to my returning insanity.)

It’s interesting how I can only really write late at night when most of my friends are asleep. Perhaps that is the only time I can feel that I have time for myself. Time to think, to draw, to feel
For some reason, the new person, the Shinyman, doesn’t count. Perhaps because I don’t feel obliged to be there for him. If he calls, I can still ignore him if I am doing other things. Speaking with him comes naturally in the intervals of the writings. At natural pauses. And speaking to him doesn’t feel as something that is imposed on me against my will.
Then again, I have been in the same room as him, almost forgetting he was even there. V still remembered me now and then, but… he doesn’t really count, in any way, that would hinder my nightly writings.

And Narraiao is learning D and seems to be happy. She can write “spoo”. Shiny, happy spoo for her, in shiny, new language.

The mouse is dying. The computer one, that is. It is annoying, but I don’t get another one even though I have plenty. I have to torture myself a bit more. It builds frustration and patience.

I can never respect someone who puts herself in a collar.
Sounds like something my friend from all those years ago could have said to me. But it wasn’t her. If it had been, it wouldn’t have hurt as much. She is allowed to, because that’s what she does. She freaks me out.

Being apart from people you love, also really hurts. And right now, Aiwendil and Kadanina both feel as distant. As far away. I can reach neither one of them. Aiwendil is an hour away, Kadanina are several hours away. But I can’t reach neither one.
My heart is slowly pulled to pieces.
Torn between all the people I want to be with, curl up with, share the silence with.
But my Narraiao is here, and without her I would start painting the walls with my blood and write awful poetry on them with a black marker pen, or something else suiting an insane and suffering artist.
(I think I even might have done that. I wonder if I could.)

BBC’s Shipping Forecasts have almost stopped being hilarious and started being company. I’m starting to recognize and remember their voices. Oh dear kittens of mercy, it can’t be good.
(Shipping Forecasts.)
… losing its identity at the same time…

I’m finding mine again.
How long will I remember?

/pao 18 oct 99+10 05.18
(minor edits for grammar and spelling later… as always…)
(added italics, because I forgot about that..)

(The Shinyman is henceforth known as Kirrah-kinah / Kirrahkinah. It is a much better name. /Pao 05.55)

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