Cocoon-ish

I spent the afternoon on the couch with Vincent huddled up to me, his head in my lap. It felt reassuring to keep my hand on his belly and feel his breathing. It was perfect.

Vincent's new haircut

He doesn't seem pleased.

Juke-box...kind of

This morning as I do every Sunday I cooked for Vincent (nothing that special-stewed chicken legs, brown rice and carrots, his diet since the strokes ‘cause the vet advised me to exclude all sub-products from his menu; my friends joke they would like to apply for the job of being my dog; sorry, guys, I love you but you’re of the wrong species). Chopping up the meat takes some time that passes less dully when I put the TV on VH1. There was some awfully familiar song from the mid-80’s on it and as I was trying to remember the band’s name I thought “Wouldn’t it be nice if the next song were “Fireflies”? I’d love to hear it now.” (That’s right, Owl City’s Fireflies; I very much enjoy that song and am not ashamed to admit it). And it WAS indeed the next song to be played! That happens to me quite often which sometimes gets me angry rather than to amuse me-why does my mind play such tricks on me as to tell me what will happen within the next 5 minutes but keeps heartlessly quiet when it comes to really important issues. Intuition with a twisted sense of humour can be quite confusing.

"I feel pretty, oh so pretty..."

Quote of the day

Or it would’ve been if I was into ranking. As a fan of minimalism (which is the refined euphemism for “simplicity”) I couldn’t help being delighted at such a neat observation depicting my very own outlook on both art and greatness:

“One thing about great art: it made you love people more, forgive them their petty transgressions. It worked in the way that religion was supposed to, if you thought about it.”

Taken from Nick Hornby’s Juliet, Naked

Anyone in?