A MoonShadow MoonShadow

Cat gifts

Woke up,
Jumped out of bed,
Stepped on a dead lizard …

Luckily (for me not the lizard) he was small and dry so there was no squish. This is why I don’t share my bedroom with the cat! Having had it implied by others that I am cold and heartless (which I am) for keeping him out, I’ve recently started letting him in on occasion. I guess he felt so grateful he left me a present; a present he had apparently killed and played with for over a day before depositing it on just the right spot so that I would be sure to step on it when I put my foot down.  I can just see old Sig and his six-toed paws carefully maneuvering the lizard into place, tapping it just a couple of millimeters this way and that, working out the angles, to get his desired effect, while I unwittingly slept.

I said a little prayer for Eddie. Yes. I named him Eddie Lizard before I buried him at sea.

I guess I should be thankful his gift was only a little dead lizard on the floor. I had a cat once serve me a live roach in bed … yeah … that was a lot of fun.  Still miss that cat …. I think that was when the “no cats in the bedroom” rule began to formulate.

Mortality

I am aging fast. My mortality has become real to me. I look forward and see that at the very best I have 30 years left of life to live, realistically probably more like 20 years left of life and honestly, I could just as easily not see the end of this decade. I never counted out my time like this before. The future was this vast cavern that I was allowed to wonder through at my leisure. Now, the walls have narrowed and I can dimly see the back of the cave. I think my mom’s passing opened my eyes. Time is limited.

With that in mind, you’d think I’d be seizing the day, living every moment like a madwoman. But no, I sit like a deer in the headlights and watch time barrel towards me. Occasionally I snap out of it, shaking my head and realizing another week has passed and projects still sit untouched, things not written, people not communicated with. And then I shake my head again and another month has gone by.

It’s hot, Africa hot***

Wow – the old blog is quiet. Kind of nice.  Feels like I can write about anything and not get backlash. I can be controversial and edgy and run in circles until I collapse (not with scissors of course ’cause that would be dangerous).  ….. Uhm …. So …. It’s really hot outside. Yup, yup … Kind of muggy which makes it worse.

(snickering from the back of the blog with a drawled out  “insightful. Soooooo glad you’re back.”)

Hey, you know, you can’t just jump into being controversial. You build up to it. Ease into the heavy stuff. Okay fine so I can’t think of anything controversial or edgy.  The heat has me holed up in the recesses of a dark room with air going full blast waiting for night to fall so I can go outside. I really, truly, madly, deeply hate Arizona summers (catch the Alan Rickman reference there – old habits die hard (hah – see I did it again) … This knowing I don’t have any readers is kind of fun. Ooh the sun is beginning to set. I’ll  write more tomorrow.  See ya’!

(“Oooh, how will I sleep!” Door slams.)

————–

*btw – the voice of the blog sounds like Tim Gunn on his snarkiest of days with a little tiny bit of Frank Nelson if you are old enough to remember him.  Google him if not.

***quote from Neil Simon’s Biloxi Blues

Where was I ….

So, I’m late as usual … I’m driving down the street in my sweet new Soul (car, that is, my own soul is the original that came with this body) and the light changes to red so grudgingly I stop, as does the old guy on the motorcycle in the lane next to me. This is an old guy, long grey hair, long grey beard, bandana, aviator sun glasses, denim vest … every stereotype you can think of is this guy. He’s probably in his mid to late 70s. I can feel him looking at me through the window (I always keep the windows closed plus its 113 in the shade and the air works best with the windows closed). He revs, I ignore. He moves up a bit – the light hasn’t changed, don’t be moving if the light hasn’t changed – I ignore. I start hoping the light changes quickly. Oh, by the way, for those that don’t know me – I am prematurely grey – snow white hair … well I guess technically at this age now it may not be considered premature but anyway… my head looks like that of a 75 year old woman but because I’m not wrinkled and as saggy as I should be at that age (no offense to 75 year women) I look better than most 75 year old women.

So anyway, the light changes, I start driving, trying to get away from the original Easy Rider there and he speeds up. He gets in front of me and proceeds to do his little peacock mating ritual dance in front of me. He lazily swings his motorcycle back and forth from one side of the lane to the other in little S type movements, I guess showing off his fine motor skills???? I don’t know, what I do know is I was not impressed. In fact, I was pissed cause the man was slowing me down. I was late and he is lollygagging in front of me. I mouthed a whole collection of not so nice words at the man in Spanish and English hoping he could read my lips, but he just took his sweet time, finally turning off the onto a side street.

I think I’m going to have to dye my hair.

(Silence … I think I hear the word “conceited” being whispered)

So … uhm …anyway, how you been blog? Long time no see, huh!

(Blog raises its head and languidly rolls its eyes at me, checks its fingernails, shrugs and recedes back into the long dark hall of previous posts, as it mutters “Whatever, just remember to shut the door when you leave …. again”)

“I swear, this time it will be different Blog,” I yell out after it, trying to convince myself more than it …. really …. really … this time I’ll post more often …. I will.

All Hallow’s Eve at the Blog

Hi Blog!  See I came back!  Two days in a row! Doesn’t this prove my commitment to writing here on a regular basis … well on a more regular basis… Blog?

(Sullen voice from the back of the blog) Whoop tee doooo! Aren’t you impressive … Now keep your voice down, we’re hiding from the trick or treaters.

But uhm blog? Blogs don’t get trick or treaters.  No need to worry. No one has been by here in ages …. except of course those people who keep visiting the Pee Wee entry and the Peter Kastner entry, but they won’t bother you.

Shhhh… I think I heard someone.  Turn off the lights!

So … what’s new?

Guilt finally overcame my laziness and I decided to perhaps throw a few sentences up here lest it be declared abandoned property.  I’m just glad I didn’t find any squatters.  One never knows …

I’ve been out traveling the webs, posting hither and yon … Yikes! My writing tonight is just … what’s the word I’m looking for … archaic, full of lacy doilies and overstuffed cliches.

I’ll try to find something interesting to report in the near future.  More than likely it will be an angry rant about something or other … I’m into angry rants … even more so than in the past … so you might want to run while you can….

Signed, the Queen of Ellipsis

Anybody home?

Taking a deep breath, I tentatively take the handle of the door in my hand.  The brass is cold and turning it requires effort.  Pushing against the dry, grainy wood, I attempt to force the door to open.  It creaks its dismay and eventually gives in.  I am greeted by the musty odor of months of disuse.  A faint light from somewhere up ahead (I think it’s the Pee Wee post) allows me to see the spiders that have taken up residence in my absence. Their cobwebs provide a banner of silk string and dead bugs to welcome my return.

I clear my throat from fear more than necessity and whisper, “Hello, blog …. I wasn’t sure you’d let me back in.  I’m sorry I’ve stayed away so long. I kept track of you … really I did…. tried to make sure you were okay …” I wait. My words are met with dead silence.  “I’m back!” I say loud enough to scare the spiders.

From deep back in the darkened hall comes the reply “That’s what you said last time…”

I take a deep breath and flip on all the lights…

“Hi!”

New and shiny

I’ve been slacking, I know.  I hardly write here anymore.  I’ve had a piece written in my head since my December trip to NYC.  The post has become moldy and stale but I will trim away the bad bits and let whoever happens to wander through here decide what’s ingestible.

I love NYC because its inhabitants all look like they’ve got a great story to tell.  No one is trying to blend, to pass for normal – everyone, at least to me, stands out as a character to be discovered.  Just walking the streets, riding the bus, sitting in a Starbucks even is entertaining.

I went to NYC the first week in December, way before the polar vortex tumbled south and froze the city.  The weather was grey, wet and for someone who comes from the desert, supremely enjoyable.  Central Park took on a romantic gothic atmosphere – I took photos of the orange leaves, stones dark and shiny from the rain, black railings dripping raindrops, it was all fodder for an over productive imagination.

central park 2013 gothic rails and rain NYC lights

Manhattan was dressed for Christmas, lights sparkled everywhere.   I walked up and down the streets in the rain with silly grin on my face.

The Met Museum was my home during the three days I was there and at night, the theater – the real reason for my journey.  I traveled to see Sir Ian and Sir Pat in No Man’s Land.  Unfortunately for me that is exactly what I did – I saw them, I did not hear them.  A combination of my abominable hearing and my location in the theater (in the back, under a balcony) left my watching body language and guessing at what was transpiring on stage.  Still it was a wonderful experience – Sir Ian acts with his whole body – I gleaned more about his character from his movements and reactions than I probably would have, had I heard the play.

The next night I went to see Twelfth Night – Stephen Fry portrayed Malvolio! He was magnificent BUT I found the whole play, the staging, the costuming, the music, the actors to be  absolutely perfect.  I heard almost all the dialogue and understood – for a Shakespearian play that is no small accomplishment. Twelfth Night is one of my favorites.  The play was performed as it would have been at the time of its initial production.  All the parts were played by men.  The lead part in the play is a girl pretending to be her brother.  The actor who played the girl pretending to be the boy (are you with me still) was brilliant.  The way he carried his body, the stances he took let you know that he was a girl pretending to be a boy.  And Mark Rylance! as Olivia was hysterically funny.  I laughed more at this production than I’ve ever before.  Rylance and Fry were wonderful to watch.  All the supporting characters where spot on. Oh, sorry, I’m getting carried away – but really the whole piece was so well done.

Hello blog!

Yes. I’m still around. I’ve written many, many entries …. in my head … They just never get transcribed. I’ve written reviews of Danny Boyles’ Frankenstein (both versions), I’ve waxed poetic on the charms of Jonny Lee Miller, expounded about my new love, Howl Jenkins (“Howl’s Moving Castle” – book not movie) and cried about Theo Van Gogh and …. maybe at some point I will write it all down. But tonight … tonight, through the boughs of the pine tree, I spotted the three stars that form his belt and realized he is back. Low on the horizon, Orion returns! It made me happy – winter is approaching! And Orion is back to watch over us!

Why, Even as BBC Sherlock Fans, Elementary Has Become Our Favorite

Why, Even as BBC Sherlock Fans, Elementary Has Become Our Favorite.

Well said! Now I don’t have to say anything further on the subject except I like BBC Sherlock, love their Watson and especially Moriarty BUT I LOVE/PREFER ELEMENTARY IN ITS ENTIRETY AND JONNY LEE MILLER’s PORTRAYAL OF SHERLOCK.

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