You should always answer with a question.


Really you mean a suggestion… That’s probably why he killed himself. He was suggested it. You do it too. We all do it. And so it becomes a progression of moods emotional impressions sublime intuitions. It doesn’t hurt to live this way maybe if he thought he owned that cat he saw his world that way I don’t know we filter and dampen and a mood is suggested to us and our reality is ensconced in that mood. This is how we taste our food. Endure our prisons. It’s what makes you see a person you’ll do anything for because you love them and in others we never give the benefit of the doubt we always see an angle a prejudice and with this our feelings run hot or cold. You see what I’m saying? I’m suggesting something to right now. With my words and my hands. And it all depends how you hear them whether or not you accept and respond to my touch…

Mylar is done with one shoe. The cat is peering from her hiding place. Apparently she likes water because with stealth she approaches the lid to Mylar’s Kiwi shoe polish and begins lapping at the murky puddle. Electra rests back on her knees for a moment while Mylar leans over to scratch behind the cat’s ear. He smiles as the cat leans her head his way. Electra is tilting her head too, smiling, as she stares at him while he doesn’t see. Like how she would look at him sleeping wondering what he dreams.


Maybe the military will change you. You won’t be so pliant to moods anymore. You’ll see how gauging your intentions on how you feel how others make you feel is an awful fickle thing. The only constant is change and if you want to be tossed about by what only comes through in waves so be it—it’s almost a spiritual thing—staying connected that way I get it… but you also have to be pragmatic. Don’t do things because you feel like you’re supposed to but because you weighed the outcomes based on what you already know and in a way it’s like gravity after that you let it take care of the rest. And the funny thing is the more basic your expressions to the things that happen to you the more light there is to your words and the less you say the less is left out… He didn’t die for love—your former tenant. He died because he wanted to say too much. And he never owned that cat.