The Psychedelic Sixties and it's Aftermath
When I was a younger man. I desperately wanted to produce some kind of genius level work of art. My masterpiece.
Ya know?
Something like Kerouac’s ON THE ROAD.
Or the Beatles SGT PEPPER.
Or Salinger’s CATCHER IN THE RYE
Or Crumb’s ZAP comic book.
Then when you get old. And realize you didn’t do that. You feel disappointed.
I probably had unrealistic expectations.
My latest blogs:
Riveting accounts of Halloweens past!!
Pulse-pounding stories about feral cats having miscarriages all over my blankets!!
PLUS!! Sordid accounts of my dysfunctional alcoholism!!
All available in this handy Internet format. And still — in these days of rampant inflation — available to the general public at the low, low price of absolutely free.
Mini Scaredy is slightly freaking out this morning. There are strong winds whipping the trees back and forth and making weird sounds all across the woods. Feral cats are programmed to react to any unusual sound or movement as a potentially life-threatening attack. So her metabolism is constantly signaling, “DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!” Her head keeps whipping back and forth in the direction of every new sound, her mind trying to figure out what it is. . . I try to reassure her, “There there, it’s just wind.” Like a mother trying to console her baby about monsters lurking in the dark. Cats.
Sometimes when my feral cats are lazing around at my campsite, laying on top of me, they have a look on their faces like they’re on top of the world.
And maybe they are.
The mother Scaredy Cat and her little kitten Mini Scaredy. Around year 2016.
In a way I regret that I named them “Scaredy” cats. Because they WEREN’T scared little creatures (they just looked that way when they were little kittens, which is when I named them). In fact they were both proud, fearless, jaunty, masters-of-reality type of creatures.
There was a Scaredy lineage over the years. Starting with:
Scaredy Cat
Then Mini Scaredy.
And then Micro Scaredy.
And finally Nano Scaredy.
Acid Heroes 