My soon to be seventeen year old Cairn Terrier Moose, who has earned her right to waddle outside and sniff the earth except in NYC where occasionally her naturally rebellious energy causes the envy and wrath of men around her who merely wish to possess her. Yesterday a strange and angry man working for sanitation gargled to me”YOUHFLGfdjfdsaljkfa dog piss on bags,,dfjdfjds;lfjdsjfhhfghafgh.” Tonight I was gently accosted by a cop where we have three per capita who explained to me that, amongst the liquor bottles, snicker wrappers and over the top garbage from bins that float around the sidewalk creating a charming post apocalyptic ambiance that if I were half Swamp Thing I might dig, this officer tells me I need to curb my dog because kids slip and fall on the urine. My dog is not an elephant; last year the Crankiest Woman on Lincoln Award Winner for the 80th straight year spat her alien acid at Moose when she was sniffing near her flower bed surrounded by a white picket fence. She had two daughters like rotten crayons scowling next to her or maybe they were trainees. Now I’d hate to have my dog’s rapid drying trickle of urine get in the way of the circular flow of ice cream wrappers and cheetoh bags. She can’t go near trees, on the sidewalk or on those precious black ground odious garbage splatters that would be what scratch and sniff wallpaper Willy Wonka would have created if he were a serial killer running a crack house.
I have trouble with authority; or really goddamned dumb authority; for what I pay in taxes to live here I’d like to have the pleasure of not having my dog accosted by city workers because her artistic choice or where to piss doesn’t match their ideal; I don’t know why I get restless around authority figures other than the odds they have no idea what the hell they’re doing. I was born to control things, I think. I’m a control freak…no a Control Superfreak, I got tentacles that come out and run governments for obscure Pacific Islands and also produce films. I’m also very very sleepy; I’ve been in some accelerating energy shift since Saturday night and I seem to have a psychic switch that someone snuck in and activated and now I can the minds of squirrels, which can be more of a steamboat journey than certain people. There’s a color spectrum to everyone and some people are dicey rainbows and I told my friend tonight it’s keeping that energy out of my atmosphere. Years ago I walked into a doctor’s office or something like that and I was late and complaining and she said ‘You seem to carry the rain with you’ or something like that which I found the most hurtful thing a stranger could say to me; this dude years ago I met through a friend when we all went out kept calling me ‘Dark Cloud.’ I can’t imagine in any sector of the galaxy where calling someone that in public repeatedly would come off as playful or endearing. I should have asked him if he had some heroin I could borrow for a few minutes or if he enjoyed drinking orange kool-aid out of his victims eye sockets like did mine. After these brushes with social death I vowed to make myself something better and fill my days with joy before a deathbed full of cranky whispers finds itself parked under my ass.
I am going to sleep. This new madness, autumn droppage of kinetic leaves into my brain space has been living in my jaw for the last few months and I have been grinding my teeth. saturday night it began drifting down more into the 3rd dimension into my chest and now I’m spiritual heat of some sort. we’ll see….