He also hides in boxes and won't come out of the laundry room and he cries in the middle of the night I can hear him from where I sleep in the dogs' jail for dogs the crate no more soft bed no more poly-fiber pillow only the heat of Lucy my Scarecrow to soften my indignity.
And how far has your noble Slipper fallen me that's who I mean?
Consider the fall we fall in love we fall down we fall for it we are fallen there is the original fall the fall of everyone and we fall asleep.
Whence does he go whence do I go whence is better sounding than where but do I use it correctly? Judiciously?
I've been reading Alan Watts and he's all meditation and reality he's all the infinite within us he's all there is no difference between environment and organism there is no self there is no self there is no self.
I meditate but it confuses me because who is this self that thinks it must be me where does it come from and where does the question come from who thinks of a thing like that who feels like they are falling with me falling into an abyss a never-ending plummeting the air warm around us filling us our hearts our minds.
Did I dream myself? Do I dream still?
Slippy is the me of the moment I wake up? The smell and the scratch and the burning throat of me?
I think so anyway. What oh what do I know not much that's true. I don't even know why Luco wouldn't blog wouldn't let me on here wouldn't even log on Lucy says midlife crisis maybe but he is old older way older than me like an ancient being he was alive when there were feathered dinosaurs lumbering around he's paleolithic I mean which is great and grand but means he can't be having a midlife crisis it must be something else.
Maybe he's having an existential crisis. Or maybe that was me. Whichever Slippy I am right now can't remember how to fold back into truth into reality and truth is probably really pulpy like the brilliance of a mango orange and sweet in my mouth crushed to juice and running down my face the juice sugar sticky licking it rolling around into the grass greener than the color more than a placeholder for the thing - the thing itself.
And me and me and me.