My Quiet Life

Quite is a euphemism for boring. I love my boring life. All the cliques apply to me. It's 5:30am and I just fed a bunch of stay cats. I have a raccoon (Frederick) who bit me three days ago. He literally bit the hand that fed him when I was grabbing his plate to put cat food on it for him. My own cat has the soul of Mussolini; a 20 pound tuxedo cat who I rescued from his deadbeat dad in Los Angeles. I never got into Nathanael West's Day of the Locust, but I remember the first sentence said people go to L.A. to die. More like they die from being there. I escaped with a tuxedo cat. My ex was such a narcissist he had to get a cat that looked like a butler.

Of course I attend Alcoholics Anonymous. Like clockwork I get dressed to go to the 5:30 meeting. I had a blog on it, but I took it down because:
a.) They really value their anonymity and someone might find this electronic diary.
b.) They brain washed me into putting my all into my recovery.
c.) Both and more that I can't think of to list as d, e, f, g, etc.

I don't work. In November I turned 37. My mid-life crisis is in high gear, so I posted a half naked photo of me in Northern California where everyone goes nude. This is my last year in Texas.

That's my quiet life. It should be boring, and I think I've earned the right to be boring by now. I took down the blog on my arrest (paranoia) but the blog about the year long fight never mentioned that the sweet D.A. was originally asking for two years of my life. I did not know this of course, because when my lawyer pulled me out of the court room to tell me I might serve a month of prison time (a lie he knew) I freaked out and- well, I'll leave it with "I freaked out."

All of 2015 was spent fighting that jail sentence. I was beyond stressed out. In my life I've only seen a few people who have reacted to stress the way that I do and usually it has something to do with their reaction to me. I just stare at them, secretly impressed as my love grows for them.

The prison sentence has been served. I've already quit one job. The stress should be over with now. After the fall. I love those three words. In Blake mythology it's the start of life on earth. We are all shattered pieces of ourselves, trying to find one another to be whole again.

In May I leave Austin. This time I'm breaking the 'A' rule. Annapolis, Albany, Arcata, Austin, Alameda (I never really lived there, just visited often while living in San Francisco.)  My moving makes me a one percenter by proxy; to San Diego. I miss my family there.

*I've decided to post photos because this is just a diary. Lucian is six years old and our next move makes it his 18th move so far. Hopefully our last.

 Our theme song is The Beatles song, The Two of Us.

Frederick is

trying to dig through concrete to get inside our home. He's not invited.

I had to add this guy. He got stuck on my kitchen screen window.