The Bathroom as Feline Sanctuary

The bathroom is, of course, sanctuary for many human beings. But, during this asshole heatwave (planet earth is trying to kill us, and fair enough! - cos we're assholes), Ms Willow has also discovered the serenity, and coolness, of this tiled and porcelain temple.

However, it's a little disconcerting when I have to heed the call of nature.

New Year's Day Message From Effulgent13

Goodbye, 2013. Hello, 2014.

This Blog is not affiliated with, nor does it play favourites with, any calender year. It endeavours to appreciate each year as each year happens, and to assess each year on its own merits. It tries not to judge years. It gives each year equal opportunity to reach its highest potential, or to sink to its lowest, most disgusting, depravity. It embraces the (so called) positives and negatives of every year. Climbing the biggest mountain or plunging head first into the deepest, darkest chasm; it's all the same, really.

2013 has now passed and 2014 is upon us; whatever will be, will be, or not.

[P.S. However, my experience of 2014 would be greatly enhanced - in a "positive" way - if dvd distributors of planet earth would release Bates Motel, season 1, on region 4 (Australia/New Zealand/South & Central America). Also, Mr Show with Bob and David (all seasons, though any season will do at this point!).]

Worm Butthole

Worm Butthole. These haunting words have been haunting my mind for the past haunting weeks. Their confounding portentousness have bedevilled my very soul. I am awash with flabbergast.

The words came to me in a vision. An electronic vision. As I was attending to my duty of worshipping the Great Television Overlord (praise thee!), the images on the screen formed a 'vision' (which they frequently do), and the vision spoke to/at me. Amongst the snowy whirr of cluttered chattering, one of the characters mumbled something seemingly incoherent, but in the interstices of this ranting drivel, my ears did elucidate a wondrous revelation: worm butthole.

It is, of course, possible that 'worm butthole' is actually what the character was meant to say, and thus not a message from another dimension (or even from the beyond!). But it was quite random and completely unrelated to anything else going on with the narrative at the time, AND it was worm butthole! And it wasn't one of those wibbly-wobbly, avant garde type productions where kooky-ass randomness is often par for the course. Nor was it a nature documentary (a place where the words 'worm butthole' might not be entirely out of place).

Also, I thoroughly reject any suggestion that I might have imagined these words. The notion that I have a silly and puerile mind which, of its own volition, conjured the aural worm butthole, is completely abhorrent to me.

So now I face the daunting task of discerning and deconstructing these powerful words. Are they an urgent environmental sustainability call to planet earth to make more use of worms for composting? Or is there a deeper, metaphysical message contained within - are these words, perhaps, referencing the time-space continuum, signalling the existence of multidimensional worm-holes, which connect to each other via 'butts'?

I also face the existential question: was I the only one? Were these words meant only for me? Or did they travel haphazardly into the ears of anyone who happened to be in front of the television at the time. There may be other worm butthole ponderers. Maybe I am not alone! I shall make it my life's work to seek out these (possible) others and we can ponder together. And there will be cake. And we may even become a cult.

Harden the Fuck Up, INFJ!

Whenever I take the Myers-Briggs secret identity test (a.k.a personality test), I always 'come out' as an INFJ.
[I=introvert, N=intuition, F=feeling, J=judging]
[Whatever all that means]

Apparently, this personality type is the least represented personality amongst the people of Earth, and sometimes, other personality types think that we're crazy (sometimes we are). We can be quite aloof at times (though we do care). We like to understand and ascribe meaning to things/situations/people. We can only have a proper conversation with one other human/animal/object at a time. We shun conversations that aren't proper. We are terrified of gatherings where we're expected to conversation with more than one person. We love interacting with books/movies/television 'cos we can be alone with them or close/stop them when our brains start to go fuzzy. But the thing that an INFJ most likes to do, the thing that makes it all worthwhile, is wallowing in puddles of maudlin reverie. Oh yeah!

Primal Scream

Why am I yelling?
What am I yelling?
Should I try to stop?
I yell at the living and at the dead.
I yell at innocent objects.
Do they need to be yelled at?
None of them yell back.
Will anything be achieved?
Maybe it isn't proper yelling. Maybe it's more of a generalized, outwardly directed, raspy, high-pitched vocal exuberance?
I think it's therapeutic, if not a little noisy.
My throat is sore but my mind is calm.

Like Feathers in the Wind

I wonder if I should tell the person whose clothes are hanging on the left clothesline (and strewn across the yard) about the fantastic 'new' clothes drying aid known as The Clothes Peg:

Also, what's with the creepy, colour matched clothes baskets? Isn't pale blue a portent of doom?? And why do I never see these people who apparently live in my block of flats and hang out their clothes to dry and make noise when they do, but who seem to vanish when I look out the window to spy on them??? Are they even real???? Is the backyard haunted?!?!?

Have You Got Yourself an Occupation???

Not really, though I am sufficiently adept at procuring for myself daily endeavours for which my being can entangle itself, such that I am 'occupied'. But, alas, these undertakings are not, in the traditional sense, considered to be An Occupation. Also, nobody's paying me. (Capitalism hates me).

So, to summarize the previous paragraph: I have no job..I am not employed..I have not got myself an occupation. But I am significantly happier and healthier than when I did have an occupation. It seems to me, at this point in time, that the thing that was giving me the biggest headache/heartache/lifeache was the workplace. Retirement is the drug I've been looking for. (Sorry, meth dealers).

There are many things I love about being retired from the workplace. Here are some examples:
* Minimal responsibilities
* Having autonomy over my days
* Not being judged and assessed all day long
* Not having to answer to my 'superiors'
* Being allowed to feel unwell until I get better - with no pressure to 'soldier on'
* Not having to interact with people who I either don't want to interact with or don't know how to interact with
* Not having to get (coerce) my brain into a work-headspace configuration
* Not having to keep my brain in a work-headspace configuration for many hours of the day
* Engaging with whatever meaningful or non-meaningful things as my daily moods decree (usually via the internet or the library or the video store or the windmills of my mind)
* Wearing whatever clothes as my daily moods decree
* Wearing whatever mood as my daily moods decree
* Not being around toxic chemicals (specific to laboratory-based workplaces)
* Not being bored
* Drinking as much tea/coffee as I like
* Using the bathroom as often as I like
* Hanging out with Willow all day

Of course, being in my mid-forties means that society thinks I should have an occupation. Retirement isn't really culturally acceptable until a person reaches mid-sixties. Social gatherings are tricky for the non-retirement age not employed; people avert their gaze when informed that the person they are conversationing with is 'unoccupied'. I live in terror of being called up for jury duty and not knowing what to write in the occupation section - is it perjury to say I'm unemployed when I have worked as a scientist (ie is this the kind of information that would entice a defendant's lawyer to challenge me as a jurist)? Also, there is the not insubstantial issue of requiring a livable income. (I will not, however, be using my knowledge of science, and specifically organic chemistry, to undertake a career in meth cooking, even as exciting as it may seem - I've watched Breaking Bad!).

But I think it is not beyond the realm of possibility that, one day, and after actually starting to search, I will find myself a proper occupation (maybe even one that pays). Perhaps by the time I reach my mid-sixties I will have encountered an occupation (maybe even more than one) which not only doesn't suck, but which is not entirely unenjoyable to do. (Capitalism will love me - but it will not be some kind of namby-pamby-touchy-feely love, it will be a wild unrestrained triple X-rated kind of love).

Political Art

Art lovers, rejoice!
I have made a highly artistic and politically charged collage of all the pre-election campaign material I have received for tomorrow's glorious election:

Willow added her own interpretation:

Comfort Creature

A Comfort Creature can only be conjured into existence in the time of a full moon, and will continue such existence at least until the time of the subsequent full moon.

A Comfort Creature should not be confused with a creature comfort, though they are similar in that they both provide extra cosy beyond the basic necessities. But they are quite different in that a Comfort Creature is much less placidly innocuous and inanimate and controllable, and much more actively taloned and tentacled and tenacious. A Comfort Creature offers such solace and protection as could not be obtained from an ordinary creature.

A Comfort Creature's external manifestation will be as the mood takes it, but talons and tentacles will always be apparent. Its size can be enormous or small or minuscule; wide or narrow or infinite.

The internal manifestation of a Comfort Creature, much like its external manifestation, is subject to its mood (though unrestrained whimsy may be more accurate). Its interior convolutions are chaotically complex and untethered from rational logic. It does not seek glory or fame or wealth, but it does strive for harmonious inter-dimensional connection.

The power inhabited by a Comfort Creature is immense; it should never be squandered wastefully or used for corrupt purposes. One should always proceed with caution when creating, and interacting with, such a being. Much responsibility is required when dealing with a Comfort Creature, but it is always a worthwhile, if not transcendent, experience.

Also, I appear to have lost my mind. Perhaps a Comfort Creature will know where I can find it.