my cats, or kittens i should still say, are nine months old. the orange one is thelonious, slightly bigger than his brother, black cat (who bears many other names as well, aka adventure kitty, murgatroid, devil cat...). i found them in pittsburgh, tiny little animals rolled up in a dirty house filled with travelers and maybe eight residents at the time. the mother cat jumped the opening door occasionally and snuck out for late nights, came back with three kittens in her belly one morning. one kitten found a home right away, but the other two remained to explore holes leading through walls and under floor boards. when i found them they fit in my palm, fuzzy tennis balls that clung to each other and were mostly silent throughout the eight hour ride home to chicago. my trips to pittsburgh at this point were for participating in antiwar demonstrations or eloping in romantic walks through parks and orange-lit streets at night. that was months ago, many months ago and just recently i have lost the feeling entirely--i do not participate in either anymore, my focus is somewhere but not to be found thus far. my only plans are exploring, a bit of train hoping down the pacific coast, and perhaps a job once i run out of money and when my roommates demand rent. romanticism has seperated itself from me or maybe i have just confused myself after too much involvement in a short amount of time. perhaps i need loneliness. a bit of self-pity to clear my senses and start myself over. i certainly feel i need a new beginning, an empty soul.
as far as i know
you are still in iowa city, working with kids, drinking coffee into the night,
smoking marlboro lights. this is my hello formed from a memory that struck me
and gave me words with which to assemble this letter to you. i hope you are
healthy, in the least. i've learned that everything else is secondary, mostly
just passing phases.
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