View from the Bayonne light house

Krakow

Weary

I woke up this morning nearly as weary as I went to sleep -- too many pressing issues in too short a time. Things get better after elections when the winners celebrate and the losers hide to lick their wounds, nobody spinning me for this or that until the glow or the pain wears off.
I've barely had time for anything personal -- just the rack of wheels from this out of control media train that I keep expecting to end with a crash, some monumental event that will wake me out of my walking sleep the way 9/11 did.
Perhaps the tea party will actually be as monstrous an institution as most of us believe, although I think Americans -- like the good germans during the Nazi era -- are too numb to notice us headed in the wrong direction. People always talked about knee jerk liberals, well the shoe is on the other foot these days, and now we have knee jerk tea party jerks -- and that's a lot more dangerous.

The death of a cat

I called him Little Bit because he seemed so small when I took him in seven years ago. The runt of a litter from a feral mother who just kept having litters until the offspring were so weak they died at birth. The name changed as the cat grew and so he became Bitzski, and was hardly affectionate except when I sat down to watch TV, at which point, he climbed into my lap. He ate when he was supposed to eat, went to the toilet where he was supposed to, and stayed out of sight other times until Saturday afternoon when he started to cry, and I couldn't figure out why.
Taking him to the vet this morning, I was told he had a large tumor and would not survive. So Bitzski and I parted ways, he still crying as the drugs put him to a sleep from which he would never wake up.

sick cat

Each time one of my cats has become sick over the years, he or she always does it on a day when I can't get him or her to the vet right away.
Little Bit didn't come up to his usual perch for breakfast yesterday, but waited nearby so I thought he was merely upset about something. Later, in the afternoon, he cried out and spat up and became so lethargic I knew something was seriously wrong. I found him sprawled out on the kitchen floor this morning and I thought he was dead. But he stirred and cried out, and fortunately, the vet is open on sundays nowadays so I'm on my way there now.

When the morning comes

dazed and confused

People are not supposed to walk around in a fog, confused about what direction life should take, where I am, what I've thought of as unchanging situations, none of it stable.
I spent the weekend walking beaches with one person while thinking of another, a bad sitution for someone whose life is dependably predictable.
Hormones drove me crazy as a kid. At 17, I was raging testosterone, running while, seeking something or someone to ease my pain, always stunned silent by sudden rain storms that blew into my world.
I'm full of gray doubts, wondering where I am and where I am going, and knowing that I want to do is different from what I ought to do.
I pretend I'm cool, calm and collective, when inside I'm not, sprirling around with thoughts I have no right to think.
What next?