Mealtimes which used to be complicated are now enjoyable for all. I measure out precise amounts for XS, S, M sized dogs and I pile the portions. Then I sit in my big white chair on wheels with little Daisy protected in my lap so she can partake unabated. I place the bowls for Mizu and Feather to my right and left. Then all three dogs wolf the fuck out of their food in seconds flat like they never ate a damn meal in their lives. Makes me feel like I should refill their bowls because I didn’t give them enough, but I know that many domesticated dogs are vastly underexercised and overfed and so I resist. They’ll eat again at dinner and then they’ll also have another walk. Our new routine is so good. Waking up to these dogs is a delight. Walking them, playing with them, taking care of them, loving them, it’s game on. This is a dog bonanza. Dylan runs exuberantly around the house shouting, “Dogs! Dogs! Dogs!” Meanwhile Mizu be like yo what the fuck dude I thought I was your favourite dog who be these other two bitches.
Dylan had a Jamaican American friend come do vocals for this track and I could hear him doing takes through the wall. “CTHULHU,” the Jamaican American said in a drawn out low heavily ominous tone that was thug as fuck. Then he said, “Like that? Was that good? Is that how you want it?” in a melodious inquiring voice like a highly congenial airline stewardess. I was in the next room silently cracking up. Today “Cthulhu” by ill.Gates is released and it is straight fire. Filthy like a motherfucker. Rising from the deep! Get it here → soundcloud.com/ill-gates
Dylan said, “I can’t do a handstand” and I said, “What the fuck are you talking about, everyone can do a handstand.” Dylan said he couldn’t and I didn’t believe him so I pepped him up and forced him to try. Dylan got caught up in my hype, dutifully got into position and did a handstand. I said, “See, you can do a handstand fine.” Then Dylan’s upside-down facial expression changed from mild interest to concern and terror while his body crumpled down like Building 7 during 9/11. The total picture was so hilarious I clutched at my stomach and hyperventilated. “I told you I couldn’t do a handstand,” Dylan said sadly. “Hahaha! I guess I should have believed you!” I said and I didn’t even feel bad for laughing.
Back when I used to have a day job. I feel a little sorry for anyone who’s never had the pleasure of being paid $300/hour to do things like tie random men up, hurl insults at them, make demands, kick them in their stupid balls and piss on their stupid faces. Shit was so fun I would have done it for free. So much more than just easy money, I got to dress up gorgeous, drink, smoke, have my feet kissed and be worshiped while I tortured people. Life every day literally was a goddamn party. Basically I eventually had to quit because nobody should be having that much fun all of the time. Takes the fun out of having fun. Now I just read books, write stories, exercise, clean, make art and dream about dogs. Admittedly I am still having fun. But shouldn’t wish for strife in a life because that shit will come.
If everyone likes you, you’re too palatable, you’re playing it too safe, and following all the rules. If everyone hates you, obviously that’s also not cool. If some people love you, and some people hate you, and both sides are passionate, you’re probably onto something good. Keep going. Here’s looking at you.
Recently I acquired some glorious new clothing accessories, all woven small gold metal plates across the shoulders with many gold chain accents that are long and fine and draping. The total effect is very opulent, feminine and really lovely. Later at home while writing at my desk, I could hear Dylan behind me sort of rummaging and fidgeting. There was to his maneuvers an edge of suppression and secrecy. I ignored him and continued to work because I could tell Dylan was up to something and I thought I’d let him have his eventual moment, whatever that shit might turn out to be. At length Dylan approached immediately near behind me. “Sup,” he said in a voice meant I guess to approximate the impassive listlessness of a sexy thug. Unhurriedly I turned around. There’s Dylan standing completely naked nonchalant hand upon jaunty hip wearing nothing more than my luscious gold metal shoulders bling. The many long fine draping chains swooshed with absurd seductiveness against his pale bare skin. “Sup,” he said again. Keeping my expression perfectly neutral I gazed at Dylan and made a casual motion for my phone. “Hold up babe,” I said. “I’m filming this.” “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!” said Dylan as he scampered away in a fit of terror and giggling.
It’s not what we do but how much love we put into our actions. Love is not found it’s created. You have to work hard to gain it and you have to work harder to maintain it. Once you stop trying loves starts dying. Remember that love is both a noun and a verb. Without action love is only a word.
We watched a film based on a true story about some people that survived a plane crash in the middle of winter up high on some mountains and they were stranded with no food and water so they had to resort to cannibalism and eat whoever was the first to die. My sister was indignant about the whole affair. “I would never do that,” she self-righteously sniffed. Her poetic sensibilities were ruffled. Cannibalism didn’t fit into her romantic view of the world. “I wouldn’t,” my sister said again, as though repeating the claim made it truer. “I’d just lie down quietly in the snow, fold my arms across my heart and close my eyes for good.” “Oh please, no you wouldn’t!” I exploded. “You’d be the first to eat us all. In fact I’m surprised you’re not gnawing on my arm right now.”
Sometimes it’s hard to know what to think, what to say and what to do. Life is filled with ambivalent moments. If you’re ever uncertain whether what you want to say or do is right, think what you’d say or do if the person you love was with you. If you always imagine yourself in the company of those you care about, you’ll always be your best self.
It was so great when we heard a Bassnectar song on Breaking Bad, I’d love if on The Expanse an ill.Gates track was featured. It’s fantastic going through the whole show again in preparation for the next season. The protomolecule is so badass. While I have slight allegiances to Earth, Mars and the Belt, I’m kind of Team Protomolecule. “Is that so,” said Dylan, though I think he’s probably Team Protomolecule too. One of my tricks is to keep a whole stable of secret girlfriends, but I always vet the girls with Dylan. Like whenever I encounter a woman that’s perfect for me I say, “How about that one,” or “I think she’d look great on my arm, don’t you,“ or “She should be my girlfriend,” or “If I had a girlfriend, it would be her.” Recent examples include Naomi Nagata, Julie Mao and Drummer, all of whom are characters on The Expanse. Dylan approves. We seem to have the same taste in women.
I’m always dismayed when people complain about someone using big words or “showing off how smart they are.” As if there’s something wrong with learning to express yourself eloquently, as if it’s better to be stupid for the rest of our lives, and forever talk like children. Christ, people, level up. Language is powerful and beautiful. It is our privilege to have it, and it is our duty to learn how to use it, to express ourselves clearly, honestly, memorably, genuinely and well. Language makes us who we are, and there are times when words are all we are. We must recognize this, respect it, and enjoy it, in order to recognize, respect and enjoy ourselves in our attempts to use words to creatively, effectively and meaningfully connect with each other.
I’m always running into a room with the announcement, “I BOW TO THE BAO” and Dylan always ignores me. So I say it again, sometimes thrice even. Finally Dylan says, “You notice how I never laughed the first 45 times you tried that joke?” And then I just bow deeply, to the bao, and I giggle. This ongoing gag is endless, and only one of us is laughing.
The best leg up in this world is love and encouragement, with a parent’s love you can go far. If you have good parents, be thankful, don’t take that shit for granted. If you are a parent, be the best parent possible to your child, especially if your own parents sucked. Because the only way this world can ever be saved, and the only way this world can ever be worth saving, is if we all do better. Stop complaining about whatever nonsense and bullshit. Stop complaining, stop shifting responsibility to others, stop making excuses. Be better by doing better.
Ever since I became a lazy motherfucker (aka married) I no longer prance around in 6″ stilettos and do death drops on a pile of speakers. Instead I wear running shoes and dirty sweatpants for like five days straight. Dylan’s gone from irrelevantly reassuring me that I don’t need to spend three hours getting all dolled up or wriggle myself into insane outfits since I’m naturally already beautiful to sadly asking me to take a shower at least once across a calendar year. But cake can’t be both had and eaten. Bed made, now lie!