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The Church of Toiling Kittens

October 29, 2014 in Cat Lady Matters, Church Matters

Every day I work and every day permakitten Grace works as well. For me this entails writing, editing, watching screeners. For Grace this entails standing guard by the window where all the pigeons in the neighborhood like to flock.

All day they stand on the air conditioner projecting from that window, and all day, with narrowed eyes and switching tail, she watches them. Some of the birds are real assholes: They coo while strutting in a circle and flapping their wings. This seems rude even to me, and it makes Gracie apoplectic. Sometimes she gets so mad that she presses her nose against the glass, growls, and flattens her ears. On those occasions the pigeons duck their heads though they rarely leave. Still, the slightest suggestion that they’re cowed satisfies Grace, and she trots back to me, ready for some head-scratching, maybe a treat. I’m no different. A chapter or essay completed and I’m ready for a new lipstick, maybe a tumbler of rye. That’s how we roll in our house: work and reward, work and reward, work and reward. I always say, the Rosman girls earn their keep.

Padding Through the Looking Glass

October 28, 2014 in Age Matters, Cat Lady Matters, Spirit Matters

My permakitten Gracie pads through all my dreams lately. At this point we’re so close–we’ve been with each other through illness and poverty and loneliness and heartbreak—that my central nervous system automatically calms whenever I feel the pressure of her tiny warm body. I’ve taken her with me on trips upstate and to the sea. It only makes sense that she accompany me to the other side as well.

The night before last, I dreamed that she was a tiny purple sea horse—an animated one who leapt off a smart phone screen to swim next to me everywhere I went. Everyone could see her but no one knew what to do with the vision. Then the phone got scrambled—it was just a wave of pastels rolling on the screen—and I couldn’t find her anywhere. To make matters worse, I was on a train, which disappeared once I stepped off briefly to find better cell reception. I couldn’t retrieve my bags, couldn’t even find the train. Naturally I discovered I was on my ex’s property, and so had to take pains to avoid him as I searched for my life’s possessions as well as dear Grace. I realized I had nothing of my own.

It was a desecration of what had been a lovely dream.

Last night I dreamed Grace and I were at a house party—a mansion party, really, but as the awkward evening unspooled, it became clear it was really a funeral. These very wealthy people didn’t know how to navigate death (something they couldn’t control) so they’d acted like the occasion for convening was an ordinary party rather than the death of a friend.

I was cynical but nonetheless present. Grace was exploring the many halls, skidding down endless, shiny wood floors. I encountered a staircase that (naturally) didn’t extend all the way from the mezzanine to the first floor. I cracked some jokes about it—a bunch of us (including another ex) were descending the stairs together in order to attend what had suddenly been announced as a memorial service—and everyone laughed. I felt gratified and mean (not an unfamiliar feeling for me). Continue Reading →

Fall Aside

October 27, 2014 in City Matters, Listing, Weather Matters

Some parentheses-laden mash notes from a mid-morning walk down the Greenpoint stretch of Manhattan Avenue: 1. I love when health food store clerks loll outside their work buildings, smoking. (NYC balance, baby.) 2. I love being able to wear a trench coat without sweating. (Flasher chic, baby.) 3. I love lower-income children more easily than well-off ones (at least as a passer-by; no one said life was fair). 4. I sort of love when Poles speak to me in their mother tongue. On one hand, the reason I don’t know Polish is because all my Polish (Jewish) ancestors either died a horrible death at the hands of (possibly) their ancestors or just barely escaped them. On the other hand, it’s a high compliment to be confused for a Polish lady. 5. Speaking of which, I love the Polish lady I met in line at the dollar store. When I complimented her turquoise beret, she pulled it off and showed me her bald scalp. “I’m sick,” she said, and held my hand until the cashier was ready to ring up her purchases. (I send her more love right now.) 6. I I love, love, love October. Come autumn, even this finely feathered city smells, looks, and feels magic. Smoke, drying leaves, dying earth: No wonder my best love affairs have always begun this time of year. (Extrapolate away.)

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