Me and Mini Scaredy are curled up ready for a long night of pleasant sleep and/or weird dreams. This is my favorite time of day — right before I go to sleep. As Andy Warhol used to say: “I’m most turned on right before I turn off.” . . . Supposed to get down to 35° tonight and tomorrow. And then warm up on Saturday. With no rain in sight through March. So this is probably the last little hit of winter in Berkeley before the Spring weather finally descends upon us for good. Thank God all mighty.
It’s weird, I spend more time with Mini Scaredy the feral cat than anyone else I know. We’re usually together for at least half of the day (even if 70% of the time we’re sleeping — but that counts too). She’s usually waiting for me when I show up, she says good-bye to me when I leave, and she’s at my side most of the time I’m between. Go figure.
Got all three of the gatos stuffed with food this morning. Which is great, because there’s a storm coming in tomorrow (Wednesday) night, so it’ll be harder to hook up with them for feedings over the next week. We could get as much as 2 inches of rain over the next 5 days. . . We’ll see.
(Moo Cat is so cute, even with cat food on her chinny chin chin!)
Charles M. Schulz was so great. His influence was so expansive. It still reverberates with just about every comic strip cartoonist that came after him. . . My series of cartoons with Billy Guzzo and Betty Botty in the late ’80s / early ’90s, was my attempt at sort of up-dated Charlie Brown and Lucy characters as 20-year-olds.
I’m a compulsive writer. If I walk by a blank chalkboard in some empty classroom, I’ll feel a compulsion to pick up a piece of chalk and scribble a bunch of words on it.
For several decades I kept a daily diary and compulsively filled notebooks full of words. I have hundreds and hundreds of journals in my storage locker filled with my compulsive writing. Boxes and boxes full of notebooks — every page of which is full of my hand-written blatherings. Just scribbling on and on in endlessly cursive writing.
Some writers talk about the problem of “writer’s block.” I had the opposite problem. I could never shut up. I just kept writing and writing and writing. I couldn’t stop doing it.
I enjoyed it. I enjoyed doing it. I didn’t even care if anybody read it. I just had to get it out of my system. It was like taking a shit in a way.
And I’m still doing it now. On Facebook and my blogs.
And I’ll probably keep doing it until somebody finally beats me over the head and says SHUT THE FUCK UP!
I had a rough year in 2022. I basically got my ass kicked every which way a man can have his ass kicked by life. Mentally, spiritually, physically, psychologically. … But one cool thing. The cool cats at East Bay Punk Digital Archives managed to archive 8 of the 9 issues of the TWISTED IMAGE tabloid that I cranked out in the 1980s.
I still can’t believe it happened,…. What’s that line from that cheesy Tom Petty song?? “Even the losers get lucky sometime.”
I set up my pop-up tent for the first time this morning (thanks again, Danny!). . . I remember the night when I set it up for the first time last year, it took awhile for Mini Scaredy to figure out the concept. She kept circling around the tent in the darkness, meowing and meowing. She had spent her whole life roaming around in the open air, after all. So to enter into an enclosed structure was a completely foreign concept to her. Finally, she decided to jump up on TOP of my tent. Bad move. Her weight caused the roof of the tent to collapse a bit. And then it suddenly expanded back up the other way and flung her in the air like she had been flung off a trampoline. Ha ha. I heard her landing in the bushes off in the distance. Poor girl.
But finally she figured out how to enter into the tent from the front flap. And now she loves it!
Rained steadily all night long. Got at least an inch of rain overnight — the first real rain in Berkeley in 10 months. So that’s a great relief to one and all. And maybe a sign that it’ll be a normal winter and we’ll get some relief from the dreaded Drought. . .
Mini Scaredy finally showed up around 2 in the morning. Soaking wet. But purring like crazy. And damn happy to be inside the tent. We slept soundly all night, as snug as a slug in a glug. And my mighty little pop-up tent held up just fine. . . Periodically Mini Scaredy would gaze at the tent, and gaze at me, with a look of amazement. Apparently she thinks it’s nothing short of miraculous that I’ve been able to somehow conger up this tent out of thin air. This device that somehow keeps us dry and warm in the midst of a raging storm. I think she thinks I’m some kind of genius who actually invented this amazing contraption, the tent. . . I’m happy to take all the credit.