Hello to all one-dimensional lines, tree shadows, dogs from outer-space and cartoon characters from old 70s kids’ shows.
I write to you today on a patch of sunlight in the living room, having just dragged a straw around for a long time, as the cat hid behind the curtain and watched it with big yellow eyes. I threw it at the curtain and he leapt and caught it mid-dive. Our cat is some cat, I’m telling you– he did a somersault the other day for no apparent reason, he used to jump in the air, twist, and catch a flying dolphin when he was a kitten, and he regularly nabs flies out of the air with his mutated paws. He’s got six fingers on each paw. I think it’s delightful, not weird.
So, it’s one of those beautiful days out there in the Outside World. Good news: my hermitage seems almost to be getting better. Yesterday I drove out with the mom into the wild countryside just outside the suburbs, which is home to terrifying old people, and grass, and stuff. It wasn’t very exciting, but I did pretend to be tied to a train track. There was a caboose on the track they’d left there, and I sat on it and looked wistfully out at the distance while mom took pictures and in my head I was some 1912 person on her way to the big city– or something like that. I also got a peach-mango smoothie at Tim Hortons– I’m sure you care about that, Blog-Reader– and it was actually surprisingly good. I didn’t even know they HAD smoothies there. It was all very fascinating and worthy of mentioning here on the blog.
Anyway, it feels nice to be blogging again after a short interlude where I felt so stressed about the big fat zero on my views count that I couldn’t bring myself to write anything. I suppose you might say I’m a little too touchy about this, because I have a handful of followers whom I hope it isn’t too weird to say I love, and I should be very glad that people actually like these aimless monologues I spew out on occasions.
So, I downloaded an album the other day: a certain My Head Is An Animal, by Of Monsters And Men. If you don’t know who they are, that’s really not a surprise. They have one hit, Little Talks, but otherwise they’re a mostly unknown group of weirdos from Iceland. Their album is completely and utterly awesome: and their accents are just as awesome. Apparently they enjoy ‘sweerming in thee sea’. Also they ‘lav, lav, lav, when you know I can’t lav’, and so on. I wish I was Icelandic. “Hey, Onceabasementdog, what are you doing?” “Well, I’m sweerming in the sea, actually.”
Heh heh. I suppose I’ll sign out now. Yours sincerely, Onceabasementdog. (Read in Icelandic accent– that’s why it’s quirky.)