Saturday, August 21, 2010




: a domestic cat; especially : an old female cat

It was prophesied of me many years ago by a close friend that I would grow up to be the single old spinster, most likely an "aunt," living alone in a large house, usually found reading or painting on a creaky front porch. At the time of this prediction I was fifteen and slightly alarmed at the thought—worried the concept of a "boyfriend" was forever out of my reach. Now that another fifteen years have passed, and with that a handful of boyfriends, the creaky front porch appears more and more appealing. As I push toward thirty, I find myself growing tired of city life and dream of living in a trailer on the Oregon coast (not an old house—I have to dream within my means—but I could probably finagle some sort of creaky porch). Most importantly: alone.

While it seems appropriate for this future to involve a GRIMALKIN, I somehow never really pictured so. I could easily sketch an old cat into this fantasy, but I guess I've never had the kind of bond with animals that most people I know seem to inherently possess. I fear this makes me more of a cold-hearted person, one who will inevitably end up in that house alone (despite my fondness of this dream, part of me still wants to be stolen away into a shared fantasy). Perhaps a GRIMALKIN would be good for my old self, to teach me how to care a little more than I do, to nuke my dry, crumbling heart.

I don't know; it's up for debate, I suppose. Right now I have to concentrate on that trailer. The cat would be the final touch, that little streak of orange that somehow brings the whole picture together.

1 comment:

  1. Thank you for opening my mind to a word I can use again and again in the coming years.
    Also, take Timb. She'll be good for you.