I Am Curious (Thirty)

October 2

Saw David on the street today. I don’t think he saw me, or if he did he didn’t recognize me, which is possible. I have changed since I knew him.

I really thought he and Arnold were dead. That Eric had killed them. I couldn’t ever figure out a reason why that might have happened, but I believed it.

I wonder why they disappeared.

I almost went up and said something. Like hello, for example. But I don’t know, I didn’t really have anything to say to him. What was there to say? There was a time when I really would have wanted to spend more time with those two, but they weren’t around then, and now—

I have to feed Herringbone.

Herringbone is my kitten. I’ve had him for a week and I’m doing everything possible to spoil him. It’s amazing how intelligent cats are. When I brought Herringbone home he was six weeks old and small enough to fit in an evening bag, but he knew instantly that he was supposed to pee and crap in the litter pan. And he never makes a mistake.

Herringbone doesn’t have any balls. If a cat has balls when he grows up he runs around pissing on everything and it stinks. The faggot at Precious Felines explained all this at great length. He was a good deal more cultured about it, let me add.

I wonder if he knew I was a whore?

Of course I don’t wear a sign. Nor does he wear a sign announcing that he’s a faggot.

Anyway, you have to castrate cats to make them behave. Same as men, I guess.

Why did I write that?

Oh, stop looking for hidden meanings, Giddings. Haven’t you figured out yet that the more you learn about yourself the less you like yourself?

This is boring. I’ll go feed Herringbone. He loves me and I love him.

Everybody needs somebody, right?