Black Velvet

 

The day starts poorly.  I forgot to buy coffee.  I had some ground coffee in the cupboard that has been there for a couple years, I'd guess.  It tastes like poison.  I was up late last night texting.  I know better, but I wasn't looking at the clock.  Then nightmares blemished my sleep.  I managed to stay in bed nearly the requisite eight hours, but that never really works.  The body wants its rhythm.  Fuck with it, and it will fuck with you.  And so my brain is heavy and thick, my emotions low.  Real coffee might have helped.  

That after a nice day, too.  I did some things I wanted to do and a thing I needed to do.  The sun shone and the breezes blew and the bright blue of the sky invited happiness.  Later in the afternoon, I bought some champagne and some Guinness and went to my mother's to make Black Velvets.  My mother asked, "Wasn't that a movie?"  I laughed.  "I think you are combining 'National Velvet' with 'Black Beauty.'  They should make one called 'Black Velvet,' though.  It makes sense." 

You wouldn't think they would be good, but they were.  Well, my mother wasn't crazy for them and simply sipped the champs, but they were creamy and bitter sweet and I liked them fine. 

Then evening and dinner and some lovely mistakes, and now I must find a way to get my zen back on track.  Perhaps a good lunch somewhere and a nap, no?  

Since my return, the feral cat has been very attentive.  It is not just the food.  Well, maybe.  But she comes close when I eat on the deck and lays near and poses.  People walking by look for her now.  Little children point.  Some fear she is pregnant.  No, I tell them, she is just the fattest feral cat in existence, a bit of a sideshow performer, I say, an animal oddity.  I'm sure they think I'm the oddity.  Selavy. 

I have things on my mind this morning that require some oblique thinking.  I can't think about the thing head on.  I will walk until my mind works something out.  It always helps to walk.  You know, if there is nothing you can do about a situation. . . well. . . you can always change your mind.