Lou Reed is dead. I spent the entire day Sunday listening to as much Lou as I could. I loved that guy. Reed has been extremely important to me for most of my adult life. Of course, I came to him late, but that was a generational thing. He became part of my personal music mythology. He was one of the anchors. He was one of the pillars of genius I built my understanding of music on. He was one of the true poets. He was like Baudelaire. He was out there on the edge of sanity, drugs, sexuality and New York in a raw, tender way. He could make the worst of all of them beautiful and the best of all of them fragile and human. He was a difficult artist that took a lot of risks with what he created. He was always challenging, always looking for truth. Rest in peace Lou Reed. You are the only one. Thank you for what you left behind.
Sometimes Deaf Black Cat just sits out in back looking at my door. I see him out there. I always assume he wants food, sometimes he just relaxing. That is, relaxing as much as a deaf cat can which isn’t much. I brought some food out to him this morning. I have to be careful to go slowly when I bring the food out or he will bolt and will not come back until the next day. I set the bowl down and went back into the house. He gave me stink eye for while. I stood at the door looking out and he took a few gulps of food in between looking at me. Then he stopped and just sat beside the bowl looking at me. I have projected that he is just looking out for me. He has become my living spirit animal and Boomer is my mythic spirit animal. So, I stood there looking into Deaf Black Cat's eyes for a while and I realized that he probably wants some wet food -- cat crack for ferals. I have only given that cat wet food once and that was to trap him in a cage. I have to assume that has to be one of the more traumatic moments for a wild animal: To be tricked into a cage with something really special and good then to hear that trap door come down. The moment that you know you’ve been duped and now you can’t get out. That has to be terrifying. It amazes me that he still wants the wet food. I wonder if the memory of the food is so sweet and good that the memory of the trap is secondary, if nonexistent. I think that is a hazy line with all of us animals. When something feels or tasted so fucking good you forget about the trap you are in or the one that you might find yourself in.
Johnny Knoxville is in the garage on Monday. I had great talk with that guy. And yes he did have an injury. He had a splint on his arm. On Thursday Elijah Wood talks to me about everything. Good kid. Good actor. Good talk.
Boomer and Lou live!