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writing about cats is queer

2004-09-28 -

I got a funny letter a couple of days ago from Marty, who sent me some raw recipes, God knows where in the hell he got them. Also a hand drawn map/floor plan of his relative's house in Pennsylvania. I always tell people I don't do well with maps, but they love to draw them anyway. Another time he wrote down everything the commissary sold and how much it was. I think he has been doing exceptionally well barring the fact that his defense team's motion to have a special prosecutor has been denied.

"New York Post -- 9/24

September 24, 2004 -- Lawyers seeking a new trial for a Long Island man convicted of killing his parents in 1988 have failed in their bid to have the Suffolk County DA removed from the case.

Martin Tankleff's attorneys argue that District Attorney Spota can't reliably oversee the hearing that will decide on a new trial for their client because he once represented the cop who obtained Tankleff's disputed confession.

They also point to the fact that in 1983, his firm represented Jerry Steuerman, the man Tankleff's lawyers say contracted the killings.

Tankleff, now 33, was convicted of slaughtering his adoptive parents, Seymour and Arlene, in their Belle Terre mansion and was sentenced to 50 years to life."

It's safe to say the letter was written before the Judge's decision was made. Anyway, I was driving home a few weeks ago and heard a Joni Mitchell interview on the radio and was very taken by her definition of a man. I thought it fit Marty exactly and when I finally found the transcript of the show two days ago, I sent that part to him.

"In the song you ask "so what makes a man a man in these tough times?" What's the answer and will we ever find a suitable answer in times of war? "

JONI: Well, as near as I can -- what makes a great man -- and there aren't many living today -- but the ones that are living, great, you know, like great leaders -- Mandela for instance. What seems to unfortunately make a great man is years and years of torture. You know, it's almost like you have to be pulled through, die, and get all your rough edges banged off, you know, like, along the way in order to come to that kind of inner quietude where the worst has happened and you've survived it, you know, and transcended it without bitterness. There's the art, that's what separates an ordinary man from a great man, I guess. Because that's hard. And if you should make that transition, from there you would get great leadership. "

I just told (Tim's, but she was my)cat Emily that I love her. I've never told her that before, and I've known her for at least 6 years. Maybe I'm telling her because she's being so needy and/or loving and climbing on my shoulder whenever I stay in one spot for a few seconds. The alternate reason I'm telling her is because I watched Gummo the other night, and the kids in it drowned some cats to sell to the Chinese restaurants. Right now her little chicken legs are hanging over my lap. I used to tell my dog L.B. that I loved him daily, and most especially when he escaped into the coyote night and my then guy said they probably ate him. As he proudly called his dog Bandit to come back, I'll add. I told Bandit I loved him too, but he had a short attention span so I had to sing it to him after singing you're a good dog Bandit. L.B. finally came back 5 days later, damp and smelling like a horse stable, even though there was no moisture or horses in the desert valley that I lived in. Speaking of Lucerne, they are having their annual high school talent show soon. I will be organizing a group to go and see the town's easiest kept secret, if anyone's interested. Since Lucerne has roughly a population of a few hundred (that allow you to see them in the daylight) I assume the school has about 40 kids in which to desperately cull talent from. I called the school a few months ago to see what the date was, and the seceretary/principal sounded suspicious. When I lived there, my AA meeting had about 10 people in it, and when I moved out of town, a couple of the women cried. Not for me I don't think, but because there went any chance of me adding to their dwindling populace. The racy article below made the front page in L.V. In fact, it took up the entire page. I've added a little shortening to it.

"Lucerne Valley Man Arrested for Tax Evasion

Lawrence Jenkins allegedly failed to file his state income tax returns between 1995 and 1998
Lawrence Jenkins, 55, a truck driver, was arrested at his home by San Bernardino County Sheriff's deputies for allegedly failing to file his state income tax returns between 1995 and 1998.
"He would have received six notices per year," said John Barrett, public affairs spokesman. "Plus phone calls."
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I am 100% not lying when I say that Emily is completely dry heaving on my lap - and just puked on my carpet. I can only assume it was the 1/2 teaspoon of avocado that she ate enthusiastically an hour ago with me. Simple raw food detox, I told her. She needs to think that over outdoors, I guess.

I dragged home a bland little grey cat when I was nine and then my mother claimed she related a lot to her. Someone named her Peppermint Patty, which I thought was queer, and unluckily again, my mother renamed her. My mother used to like to attach people's personalities to cats.

"You know, growing up, I was a little scrappy like Mitzy. A little sad. And I was in a gang, but I used to get beat up a little, by a girl in another gang named Peanuts. Mitzy is kind of scrappy too, but a survivor, like I was. "

"We know, you've told us this gang story a couple a times. "

Then one day my brother Rory was angry at no one we knew, and told Mitzy she was a bitch, just like all women were. I had nothing to project onto Emily tonight, but I guess she had something to project onto me.

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