Painted cats – or Tegan and Sara’s precious little fluffballs, Mickey & Holiday, to be exact – in the style of David Hockney , so that a friend of mine would feed his cat. Don’t ask me how that deal was struck. It just happened.

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all the glamour and the horror and the fuckin’ melodrama

These days, I cannot seem to keep track of time. There are encounters that I’ve willed to happen but cannot bring myself to see to; other engagements that I’ve never intended for, that inadvertently occur for one contingent reason or another. Then there are the appointments that one must keep, regardless of how early or how late in the day they may be, or how lethargic you are. Those are most tedious.  Continue reading