Measured Extravagance

06 September 2003 - 1:36 p.m.

Hastur's back! Happy happy!

Didn't make it to circuit class yesterday (arggggh), but Abby helped make up for that with a long, lovely ramble through our neighborhood as night was falling. There's a number of houses nearby that I tend to think of as "seaside Victorian," and they're so pretty in the twilight.

Finished reading Timothy Findley's Inside Memory this morning. My favorite story: Findley goes down to a beach and crawls around on all fours, the better to imagine the world from the point of view of his cat. Unfortunately, a couple had decided to stroll along the same stretch of beach the same morning. Seeing him "bum in the air and my nose in the sand," they conclude that he's a druggie:

"You think we should call the authorities, George?"
"Why would we do that?"
"Well - he could be dangerous! He could do something terrible, George, like go berserk on an overdose and kill us all!"[. . .]
"If he took an overdose, Anita, he would be dead," said George.
"So we shouldn't worry, then?" said Anita.
"No, Anita. Not to worry. Just keep walking. . ."
As soon as they were gone, I got to my feet and ran up into the trees. What if these people really do call the authorities? What will I say? I was just pretending to be a blind cat?


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