Por Dios Que Pase Algo
Por Dios Que Pase Algo
Week 161 b
Now the cat is in dead cat position. Her head lying in one direction and her legs another. Yesterday she disappeared twice, once behind Ori’s books, the double rows of books make spaces she’s always liked tohide in, and at last I remembered, after looking up and down the whole house, in all the spotsin cornere andalong walls that she’s favored over 13 years. When she came Machi was a little boy. Still mine. Once, the day after we got her at the pound, she got into the street and I panicked, and Machi found her under a car. She was a sweet fat calico, and an excellent mouser it turned out. Even close to death, last week, she was still mousing.
Catsi is dying. Machi is gone. Ori’s been missing, detained without trial in Ventura, for years. I am lonely. There is no one. Not even me. I remember nothing. I know nothing. In my inner world there is only not knowing and the one thing I know is that one day I will die. Expire. No more inspiration. Marcando tiempo. Que pase algo por Dios.
When the cat expires it’s not likely that I will hear it. Her breathing now is very smooth, as if truly that is all that is still going on in her body. Yesterday she could still hide. The second time she hid I’d put her in my bedroom before going out to run errands, in a high milk crate which I thought she wouldn’t be able to escape from, just so she couldn’t go find herself a hole in a wall to die in while I was gone. Machi’s childhood cat disappeared to die and we never found him or his body. When I came back the box was empty. I found her again, this time in the back of my closet on top of a pile of Ori’s shoes. It appears she longs for Ori, or she’s sending me a telepathic message about him.
How will I ever return to work, manage to return to work? How can this absent presence that is me when I am alone become the one out there who says and does those things, with fierce opinions about education, distinct hatreds (I feel distinct when I’m hating Xiomara, when I’m making her the embodiment of everything unhuman and harsh and stupid and sold out and compromised and corrupt and psychopathic). But who am I now, minutes after waking up terrified, my consciousness barely quickening an identity, first order of business checking on the progress of Catsi toward death.
Por Dios que pase algo. Something to set me free.
The main question is, what can I do to stop Solly and Xiomara from firing Lucha?