A question was asked in what type does one write. I don't know in what type I goes about it. When I write it's prolly to do with emotion, only the more important thing to me is I'm trying to create scenes for memory sake. If I can encourage the catfish to take a walk, which is why I write, to spend my time with him.
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike. I am not cruel, only truthful-- The eye of a little god, four-cornered. Mirror: Sylvia
Thanks for our A.M., Jack.
I guess I should name this one.
Circus Meat
"You know, Cat, I don't know what
takes me longer.
I should have known and it's that.
Why, it's taken it's toll
and toiled at my heart strings.
I dreamt of it just now,
a goldfish swimming
in the bathroom sink,
it was so small
and the water was over-flowing.
Then we plucked the fish out by her tail
and plopped the girl in a small jar,
then hung it on the bathroom door.
Well, that's cruel
and I don't knows why
I'd not noticed such suches
before."
Cat said, "Hmm, you are
crueler than I
that's for sure."
`Do you know, I was so angry, Kitty,' Alice went on...`when I saw all the mischief you had been doing, I was very nearly opening the window, and putting you out into the snow! And you'd have deserved it, you
little mischievous darling!
~Lewis Carroll