Home for a couple of days around my family Seder, goyishly late for logistics purposes. I got home late in the afternoon; my brother is out of town seeing his kids, so I have the place to myself. I haven't been home in a couple weeks, when I was home for a day, and two weeks before that I was on the road.

My cat is unbelievably angry with me.

She came over and demanded some serious headscritching and a hug or five. For a couple of hours.

Then half an hour ago she went insane for no immediately apparent reason and started abusing her brother. She backed him into the bathroom and stood in the hall, penning him there, for around twenty-five minutes, yelling (the fact that he weighs 28 lbs and she weighs 11 is not relevant, here, trust me). I had to eventually sprinkle some water on her to get her to back away, and she promptly retreated halfway up the stairs and sat there growling at the both of us.

That's when I realized.

I tried to apologize for the water. She let me rub her neck - she has only once ever lashed out at me, and that was excusable - but kept growling.

Worse, whenever I get near her, she turns her head to look at the wall and growls louder.

I feel around six inches tall, and perhaps the Most Awful Person In The World.

Who knew cats were this good at guilt? Calm sociopathy, psychosis, intimidation and violence, sure. But guilt? Who knew?

Man, I feel awful.

April is the cruelest month, so said T.S. Elliot in his Waste Land, though perhaps my February was worse for me due to break up drama. The relationship ended for stupid reasons and I, in typical BookReader fashion, went out and immediately got another girlfriend, which is retrospect was probably not a good idea this time as I am still very much not over the last one. Two years is hard to shake and only a sociopath would shrug and say, "Oh well." I am however committed to making the new girlfriend as happy as I can for a long as I can.

Now, tomorrow is grundoon's memorial and since today is my birthday I'm not able to make it over several states due to commitments revolving around my family and suchlike. Instead, I will light a candle and think happy thoughts about her. My last message from her on E2 is "Thank you." I do not remember what she was thanking me for.

On the writing front, I am currently working on three projects. One is the "Above Earth," a faux-science fiction serial involving folks on the Moon, the second is working out chunks of what will become a novel if I ever figure out how to put it all together and the third is for all intents and purposes done: a 56,000 line poem written in alliterative verse. It's probably un-publishable because one, it's a long poem, and two it's an epic a la Beowulf written from the perspective of a wasp hive. It's hard to publish poems, the publishing companies and agents I looked at do not usually consider both fantasy and poetry, poetry is hard to publish anyway, and most of the poetry contests run by various publications want collections not a single long work. So, I have this very entertaining poem I can't do anything with. I thought about putting on E2, but there are several problems with this. First, I can't figure out how to make the caesuras that are in the poem (in nearly every line, in fact) to show up correctly in E2 and the caesura is often important to the meaning as well as the poem's form, the second is that E2 is very unkind to poetry, often unreasonably so. In short, I doubt E2 is the proper place for it. However, if anybody wants to take a look at it and tell me what they think, I'll be happy to send them an copy via e-mail.

"Above Earth" however, is proving to be fun. I've written up to chapter eight and the serial quality is interesting because I have to correct as I go along rather than write it and then go back. Hopefully I won't ruin it. Next one comes out TODAY once I get it all E2 formatted.

And that's the birthday log. Nothing else to report. Nothing else the me from the future would be interested to hear, though the me from the past might be interested in the stories I could tell of January, but I can only hope the girl who got away likes her new Kansas home.

"Today is your birthday". Thanks Facebook, I didn't know.

birthday past/birthday future

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