Filthy World

My car is parked on the street because the filthy cats took over my garage stall. I have allergies and a small heart, etc. It is now a pussy palace, complete with rugged towers, a cheap couch from Ikea, a circulating water bowl, a window ledge, many different lamby mats and cushions, a litter box and a mountain of dry food. It’s been almost three years.

It’s nice.

And I do not have much sympathy for homeless cars. Filthy, awful beasts. Worse than cats.

Tomorrow, the ten year period is up and I have to go to the DMV to get my license renewed. In my vanity, I did not drink any alcohol today. I’ve had much water. I exercised Monday, Tuesday and today. There is something about a picture that you have to look at for ten years that really motivates a person. The Drivers License photo is worse than actor headshots. The latter can be tossed as soon as the mood hits.

It is odd to me that the card one uses for identity is connected to the automobile. It really wreaks of, “Drive, drive, drive! If you believe in your citizenship, then get behind that wheel and put the pedal to the metal!” Soul destroying.

I wish my car was a box that linked into a cabling system. Just punch in your destination and off you go. Magnets powered by the sun. No fossil fuel. One day, there will be something like this. It will be so fun to hear the stories about people punching in the wrong location, falling asleep and then waking up in Bakersfield. Or Camden.

I have a strong need to visit Iceland. Before they turn it into an aluminum tailings dump.