Tuesday, March 11, 2003

In case you weren't aware, Six Feet Under is an incredibly good show. I was considering doing something else while I watched it (as I usually do when I watch television), but every episode is an event. I don't want to miss a moment.

Usually I like a show because the writing is really good (the Simpsons, for example). But Six Feet Under has superb direction, cinematography, acting...even the music is awesome (they were playing something from Beck's Sea Change tonight...I've also heard Yo La Tengo, Built to Spill, and there was one bit of dialog about Sleater-Kinney in the Seattle episode).

Anyway, luckily the idyllic atmosphere of the season opener has been shattered by Rico and Lisa's descent into assholeness. I can't wait for the next episode!

Thursday, March 06, 2003

My cat not only hates me, she is also extremely strange. This evening I witnessed to weird behaviors. First, I noticed her [i]playing with the door[/i]. It was almost ghostly, because from where I was sitting, she was hidden behind the sofa (which is why she was comfortable enough to play in my presence: she couldn't see me either). There was the door, swinging merrily back and forth. Actually mostly it was heartening, because other than running around in the middle of the night, I didn't think she played at all.

The second weird thing happened a few minutes ago. I could hear her scraping in her litter box for a few seconds, then I would hear the sound of her crashing up the stairs. Soon after, I heard her dashing down again, another brief scratching episode, and another hasty retreat. This drama went on twice more before she seemed to spend the necessary time and nerve to excrete.

My theory on this is that the first few forrays were feints. I may have surprised her at some point, and now she no longer feels safe relieving herself. God, she's riddled with fear I feel like I should have named her "The American Public."

Tuesday, March 04, 2003

Ugh.

I was going to be done with posting for the day, but I've encountered something pretty upsetting and I feel like venting a little.

One of my favorite websites (Baseball Prospectus) has gone "premium." So basically, all the stuff I was getting for free now costs money.

Was all the previous content just a trick to get me hooked so that I would fork over 40 bucks a year? Professional sports are kinda like porn. You don't get to play, but it sure is fun to watch. And my rule for porn is that if it costs money, I don't bother. I guess BP falls into the same categorey now.

As interested as I am in Myrtle, it appears that she may be more interested. She has taken to observing with a mixture of what I can only assume is horror/fascination. The thing is, it's a one way street. If I notice her (i.e. turn either my head or my [i]eyes[/i] towards her) she flees. Sometimes she runs under a chair, and we stare at each other; she, from the relative safety of the chair, and me, on the relative filth of the living room carpet.

I can't get over how pretty she is. I've had three cats before Myrtle, and she is the first one whom I think I can (objectively) say is aesthetically pleasing. Which makes her hiding game all the more frustrating. I mean, if you had an old, ugly, long haired (I really hate long hairs...yes in both senses of the term) beast, it probably wouldn't be too bad if they hid from you. A striking and elegant kitten is another matter entirely.

I'm beginning to loathe this part of myself. Next thing I know I'll be submiting articles to Cat Fancy (which I actually briefly considered buying at the pet store yesterday until I realized what I dork I am).

Tuesday, February 25, 2003

This whole cat thing is really starting to irritate me. I thought there was no limit to my patience. I thought I could love kitties no matter how infuriating and unavailable (both physically and emotionally and sonically) they might be. But maybe there is a limit. I honestly wouldn't mind if someone came and took Myrtle away, or she ran away by herself. Right now, she's just this parasite that sucks up food and excretes and forces me to do things that I wouldn't normally have to do and the only return I get on my investment is that she occasionally eyes me fearfully as I prepare a meal for myself before running away.

If someone came up to me and guaranteed me that at some point in the future she would allow me to pet her all these bad feelings would evaporate. I just don't know if that will ever happen. Maybe I should read some books on taming wild animals. Whenever I think about reading something challenging my mind always lays this guilt trip on me "you're just doing this to avoid schoolwork you lazy bastard." The expenditure of significant mental energy for anything other than the completion of my degree somehow has become a moral dilemma for me.

In this new found spirit of loathing my cat, I've decided to talk about something else. I could talk about the Gary Payton trade but I have a feeling that wouldn't go over very well with the people most likely to read this thing. So instead I'll talk about something that has been plaguing my fantasies lately:The integration of music and theatre.

As far back as I can remember, I've wanted to put my favorite songs in visual context. I guess in a sense I want to make really long music videos. But I want there to be a long running narrative which is often intercut with songs. And I want it to be fluid. I want the two elements to work together in harmony. In theatre, this is a problem because speech is the dominant medium to transmit information. So why not just do movies? Because I love the raw energy of theatre, the sense of aliveness that you get when you see something really amazing, a kind of hybrid between fear and pleasure.

The second problem (and this isn't just in theatre but in all performing arts) is copyright infringement. How do I produce something that uses pop music without getting sued or having to pay the labels/artists huge sums?

Eh, this is way more vague and inconclusive than I wanted it to be. I think I'll just stop.



Monday, February 10, 2003

I decided to try an experiment. I didn't give Myrtle any more food after she ran out, thinking that starvation would force her to come to me. My father hypothesized that this would only cause her to scrounge for food aournd the house, and since the house is a pig sty, she'd probably succeed in finding some. She would also probably pick up bad habits. He said that he's been seeing her quite a bit recently, so maybe she'll get used to people through him, then learn to love me afterwards. I'm not jealous of him though. I'm happy that things are improving somewhat.

Monday, February 03, 2003

I've decided that was a foolhardy idea. So over the coming weeks, I will chronicle my encounters with and efforts to tame this elusive, and apparently dangerous (and sort of scary) beast. I'll probably discuss other weighty matters too.
She stared at the kitchen door, which is almost never closed. She then scurried around, looking for something to hide under. Finding nothing, she seemed to breifly consider jumping on to the kitchen counter, but then decided it was too far, or too scary. I advanced on her...I don't know what I was thinking. She ran past me, and I made the decision not to pick her up. At this point I was still hoping she would come to love me without any drastic intervention on my part.
This wasn't the first encounter I had with her. The first happened about three weeks ago. I came home from school in the evening, and was puttering around in the kitchen when I heard a strange sound from the dining room. I went to investigate and saw Myrtle hiding under a cabinet. Thinking myself very cunning, a closed the door to the kitchen, then rousted her out of her hiding place, whereupon she ran through the dining room portal into the kitchen.
I decided to start a blog on this topic because of an incident tonight. I cornered Myrtle in the bathroom. When I went to pick her up, she ran past me, opening a couple bloody gashes in my foor as she did so.
I named her Myrtle. I thought of it as a female version of the name Yertle, of "Yertle the Turtle" fame. I named her this because she hides almost constantly.
Hi. My cat hates me.

I brought her home from the PetSmart in a cardboard box illustrated to look like a cozy brick house. I opened it when I went upstairs to get the litter and food. When I came back down she was gone. She has been seen only rarely since.