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Archive | Cat Lady Matters

Mars and Me Enraged

March 25, 2018 in Age Matters, Astro Matters, Cat Lady Matters, City Matters, Essays, Feminist Matters, Sabboytical

I just came home from a bad night a bad week a bad year so far, who am I kidding? Stopped at the bar at the corner before I came back because I had no booze in the house and it seemed wise to take the edge off all the pistons misfiring–the fight I had tonight, the hot-hot-hot flamenco to which I bore witness, the revelation that my burning love for someone had been a tiny subplot in his burning love for someone else. So yes tequila tequila before entering my house. (Don’t want to scare Grace.) Continue Reading →

Survival Instincts at Their Coziest

March 3, 2018 in Cat Lady Matters, Feminist Matters, Music Matters, Quoth the Raving

I wake from the river of a dream and buoy myself with the sweet structure of a Haydn piano sonata, the tidy spill of the many blues of my bedroom. Pad into the kitchen with hungry permakitten at my heels, settle back into bed with coffee and the novel I was reading before I fell asleep. Through my window it’s cool and still; Grace leaps and lands, so softly, on my feet, where she fastens her green gaze upon me. I put down my book so we may engage in our ritual exchange of blinks. I love you. I love you too. I flash on a quote by Freud, of all people: “The organism wishes to die only in its own fashion.” I, the organism, on its own terms on this quiet Saturday morning, freedom in its gentlest form. An elusive luxury for most humans through time, especially for women. I will take it gladly.

Schmalentines Liberation 2018

February 14, 2018 in Cat Lady Matters, Feminist Matters, Spirit Matters

I am beyond cool with the fact that this leggy supermodel is my most constant valentine. She is coated in the softest stripiest fur, purrs rather than barks (more than I can say for my human loves), never steals the covers, has the tiniest emotional carbon imprint , and thinks everything I write is the bees knees. Sure, I spent the day debunking the capitalist myth of romantic love for an essay on the second-wave legacy of The Feminine Mystique, and that felt pretty durned good. So did the two episodes of Broad City I just inhaled with two shots of tequila. But my point—and I do have one, to quote the great Ellen DeGeneres—is that love is love is love, and I’m grateful to experience it in so many ways in this life. I wish you oodles of love as well.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy