Size doesn’t matter

A close-up of Larenti (20080927_12938)

Larenti is the largest member of The Kids.  He also happens to be the most docile cat in the house, one who shrinks from most encounters and shuns confrontation.

I’ve always suspected his early years brought with them some kind of abuse given his fear of hands, and likewise I think the formative nature of growing up left him with a dread running through his every interaction and encounter with other creatures.  His size alone makes him a formidable presence; his personality strips away that advantage and replaces it with palpable cowardice.

A close-up of Vazra (200_0056)

Vazra, on the other hand, is a petite feline if one ignores the plush fur that doubles his size, yet he fears nothing.  With a devil-may-care attitude he does as he wishes sans any consideration for others, and he defends himself with vigilance and might.  Not that he’s violent, mind you, but he certainly puts up with no flack from anyone.

If he wants to lie somewhere, by golly he’s going to lie there no matter who he has to step on or smother in the process.  If he wants to get in my lap and it’s already occupied, he’ll gladly climb atop the current occupant in order to claim some bit of Daddy’s time and personal space.  Yet he has such a small frame that it’s easy to misjudge his weight when picking him up given that his hair makes him appear twice as large as he really is.  But he doesn’t let that get in the way of his confidence or demeanor.

A close-up of al-Zill (20080927_12963)

al-Zill remains a kitten at heart.  Young of body and mind, his rambunctious spirit crashes through most every second of the day.  He gleefully romps about without any concern for others, tackling the first cat to walk by, chasing anything that moves (and quite a bit that doesn’t move), confronting others in the cat boxes, taking random swings at others hoping to induce play, and otherwise being what a child should be: a meddlesome, troublesome bundle of energy.

While physically he is a relatively small cat with a wee bit of extra padding around the middle, like any juvenile he fears nothing.  When surprised, he flees to a safe distance until he understands the situation, but mostly he sees everything and everyone as a toy, and he lives every moment as though enjoyment lost then can never be regained.  And damn the consequences!

A close-up of Kako (20080825_11486)

The smallest fur person in the house, Kako most likely is the most powerful inhabitant of the xenogere homestead.  Being the lone female in a house full of boys means she has to make up with attitude what she lacks in size and strength.  And attitude she has in abundance.

Kako takes no crap from anyone, least of all me.  All I need do is point at her for doing something wrong and her ears go back as she takes a swing at my parental display (if not several swings).  If any of The Kids invade her space, she growls and howls and puts on a show that would make any reasonable person think she was being tortured.  When it comes to defending her own honor and safety, all of the cats know better than to mess with her.  Petite body notwithstanding, she’s a powerful force and a dangerous woman.  Besides, she also happens to be Daddy’s Girl, so she knows I’ll come to the rescue at the drop of a hat (not that I often need to, but she plays that card when necessary).

A close-up of Kazon (20080927_12946)

Kazon equals Larenti in size, except he doesn’t carry the extra weight.  He’s a lean jock, a large tom with a wide, powerful head that matches his considerable dimensions.  Although without a doubt the biggest baby in the house, my puppy who will never grown out of his childish mind, Kazon puts on the cloak of a big boy when the need arises.

I’m convinced he hasn’t a clue how big and powerful he is.  He still sometimes forgets about his own ass when he jumps up on furniture, leaving him hanging by his front claws while his back feet sway in the wind.  Nevertheless, he tries to assist with discipline from time to time and he dives into kitten-like mayhem without notice, and more often than not it’s his overwhelming size that wins the day.  (In most cases, he simply crashes on top of his playmate in order to win.)

A close-up of Loki (20081005_13451)

Despite age and asthma, Loki remains a menacing feline.  While it goes without saying that he is physically powerful and agile, his dominance stems more from his mind than his body.  He is a plotter and planner, one who carefully and quickly thinks through every action to ensure he manipulates events to his liking.  Though not always the winner at play—or even getting the resting spot he wants most—Loki represents one of the most dangerous things in the universe: a predator with a sharp mind and the physical power to back it up.

Loki is a hazardous foe because he has the potent body of a true killer, but he is even more dangerous because he has the one tool that can win over brawn every single time: a developed intellect that is as keen as it is cunning.  Even as the years have begun slowing him down and even as acute asthma has made him want for breath in the midst of trouble, he wields forethought like a sword.  This has made him the true god of mischief.

A close-up of Grendel (204_0487)

My sickly baby.  Grendel has spent his entire life dealing with one ailment after another: arthritic bone spurs in his hips, acute asthma, stones in his kidneys and bladder, and an immune system that now attacks his own intestines.  From his first year he battled ailment after ailment, yet he remained the alpha of the clan.  Large enough to throw his weight around, thoughtful enough to know that one cannot rule by violence alone, strong enough to put his foot down when needed, and smart enough to let others have their way from time to time, Grendel epitomizes the best kind strength: the gentle kind.

Illness and years have robbed him of much of his potency.  He lost enough weight such that he can no longer whip up on others to keep them in line.  But he tries, and many times he succeeds; but more often than not he prefers to stay out of the fray.  How I miss his casual enforcement of his rights, barely lifting from a resting position to knock away those who would steal his bed.  How I miss the confidence that once dripped from his every move.  Yet what disease and time have stolen from him I give back by proxy.  Grendel will be the alpha until he dies; the others know this and respect it, even if I have to make sure they don’t push him too far.

I’m in love…again

I have someone to share with you, someone talented and beautiful and worth meeting.

Although I’ve never actually met him myself, of course, I’m infatuated and beguiled.

My latest crush?  You bet!

Oh, and there are videos and songs involved…

More on this once I get my laptop back up to par and can post from a more comfortable place.

Brush of a feather

How filled with profound envy I become when my eyes settle upon a bird in flight.  How jealous I am of this simple thing.

A turkey vulture (Cathartes aura) in flight on a sunny day (20081011_13614)

Lifted by a harmonious play of feathers brushing against air, the angelic sight too often leaves me adrift in a dreamscape that gifts me with such an ability, a place wherein I soar majestically over mountains and woodlands and oceanic vistas, where my vision devours the entire world in great sweeping arcs born of flight.

A turkey vulture (Cathartes aura) in flight on a sunny day (20081011_13611)

With all our rushing to and fro, and with all our scampering and scurrying, I fear we do not see as these creatures see, for our view from the sky can only be artificial at best, unnatural to our earthbound lives.  What must this existence look like to those who ride the winds?

A turkey vulture (Cathartes aura) in flight on a sunny day (20081011_13617)

To rise on thermals with wings held firmly against the sky…  To perch in treetops and survey the land to which so many are forever anchored…  To lavish my sight with the gift of visions meant for none but those who swim in the vastness of the heavens…  To be like a god amongst insects…

A turkey vulture (Cathartes aura) in flight on a sunny day (20081011_13652)

What fanciful magic I see in birds.  What want I feel in the presence of that which they take for granted.

A turkey vulture (Cathartes aura) in flight on a sunny day (20081011_13610)

The brush of a feather against the air.  It’s nothing more complicated than that.

[all photos of turkey vultures (Cathartes aura); bad of me for not using the polarizing filter; it would have helped tremendously with these shots]

Minor interruption

I’ll post something with more substance momentarily, but then I suspect I’ll be off-line for a few days.

The replacement drive for my laptop arrived this afternoon, so I need to get it installed and get the system up and running to at least a small degree.

Once the OS is stable and I get some of my basic apps installed, I can get back to more regular posting while I finish up the rest of the installations and configuration.  But I at least want to get limited functionality back as quickly as I can.

Dearth

I always keep in mind a balcony moment and the truth that followed…

I blush at the memory of removing someone’s shirt, losing myself in the touch of a chest, standing before my every fantasy made flesh—and that flesh being exposed in front of me…

I think of oceanic eyes of blue fluttering beneath the blond hair of a Nordic god…

I tremble at the thought of watching you undress so you might take a quick swim in a lake, your wife watching, my eyes never leaving the every move of your frame as love itself became the form of your sun-kissed body…

I am shamed by the jealousy I felt while seeing a divine beauty flirt with patrons of a piano bar as I fell victim to my own desires…

I shook beneath my own embarrassment as I sat in the seat next to you and admitted my profound infatuation, my love-at-first-sight curse that held my soul to the flame of covet as I burned at the altar of passion…

I craved without end the privilege of seeing your first tattoo made manifest, the want of witnessing the mixed blessing of pleasure and pain writ upon flesh I longed to hold near…

I summon the image of when my eyes first rested upon your visage, and I recall how I dared not battle the need within to feast upon that splendor at every opportunity, finding any excuse to speak to you, see you, visit your work area, stand in awe at what yearning wrought and truth withheld…

I deceive all those around when it comes to the power you hold over me, the control you wield at the very mention of your name, the very recall of your mien…

I am your servant to do with as you please.  I am a slave to the words brushed upon the air by your thoughts.

I am these things and so much more, one eternally chained to that which can never be mine, for all time ensnared by the one I wish for and require most, for eternity and a day held captive upon the rocks of your eternal shore.

I will breathe my last breath in silence and sorrow for the famine of my soul spent wishing for you.

Would that these simple, limited words could do justice…