First and foremost, I would like to apologize to the mysterious individuals who cruise this blog on a regular basis, presumably to look for updates. According to Ye Olde Blogspot, this blog has had dozens of readers (drive-bys? Google hit-and-runs? Who knows? Surely not I!), and at least a few are repeat viewers (special acknowledgement to the visitors from Deutschland, Russia, and Iran…especially Iran! Why you cruisin’ me, Iran? Are you looking for tips to enhance the corporal punishment in your jurisprudence system, or what? )!
In any event, thanks for visiting, and I am flattered that you are interested enough to return, good reader!
On Independence Day the official fireworks extravaganza took place on the West Side this year, over the Hudson River. (The ads called it the “Macy’s Fourth of July!” which I found very vulgar and crass…were I to donate big bucks to a Bengal Tiger habitat, I wouldn’t demand to name it the ‘Miss Margo Bengal Tiger Habitat.’ Corporations are so obnoxious.)
Meanwhile, someone(s) launched fireworks from the East River Park, where the fireworks celebration was held in previous years. I know because I could see them from my bedroom window. People in my neighborhood crowded to their windows, ventured out upon their fire escapes. The fireworks were beautiful, and they made spectacular noise. I like the way some of them are like optical illusions, which seem to explode toward your line of vision (does anyone know what I mean…? It’s hard to explain! I should have taken photos).
The kid I was keeping the turtles for dropped out of rehab within 48 hours and came to collect his pets a few days later (THAT was interesting, let me tell you). They were put back in their tiny cage and sent packing. There was nothing I could do. Sadly, I doubt very much if either one is still living.
I enjoyed watching them so much, though, that I walked over to the nearest crummy Petland Discounts and bought myself a new little friend.
Truly, he is a magnificent specimen! Fish are really hard to photograph (or maybe I’m just a bad photographer), and these photos don’t do him justice. He’s a brilliant cobalt blue color, with dark blue tips on his caudal fins and wine-red pelvic fins. I set him up in a 2.5 gallon tank on top of my desk. I’m going to trick it out with moss balls and java fern after payday.
I enjoy the betta fish very much. He seems quite fascinated by the things in his tank, such as the gravel and the thermometer and the big round piece of sparkly granite that I propped in front of the ugly box filter. He examines each with careful concentration. Amazingly, he never seems to get bored.
Jeff, the Machinist, would observe him and say: “Well yes, he has very limited programming.”
Or at least, Jeff would say that if he was here. Which he’s not.
My expensive neo-Freudian psychologist told me that I end relationships with people who get too close to me out of homicidal impulse. You want to murder them, she said.
What? I said, very skeptical. That struck me as preposterous. I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t understand.
You kill them symbolically by killing the relationship.
But I’m not hostile towards these people, not angry. Why would I…?
You don’t want to kill them out of anger or hatred. For you, it’s necessity. It’s survival. They are very threatening to you. You kill them before they kill you.