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On 7/24/2021 at 8:09 AM, Bazza said:

To most people ‘reality’ is a bubble of unreality, and...well I gotta finish that later. 


To most people ‘reality’ is a bubble of unreality, and have been so conditioned, are in deep denial. 

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This is a real composition, the composer is Leroy Anderson. The piece is called "The Typewriter"
written  Oct 9. 1950. 1st recorded by the Boston Pops on Decca Records. Only 2 keys on the typewriter 
functioned and a professional percussionist plays the typewriter.


Tchaikovsky: I used cannons to make an amazing performance
Leroy Anderson: haha typewriter goes tap tap and bell goes ding


I don’t know why it reminds me of Mr.Bean

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Bought two pairs of shoes today.  The pandemic gave my old shoes (ones I can lecture in) a reprieve, because neither the black pair nor the brown pair could hold water out at all any more.  Don't need that when your commute to the lecture room consists of walking across the living room and down the stairs.

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Last week's emotional travail was the temporary disappearance of Spike (a/k/a Fluff Butt).  All our cats have been inside/outside cats: they spend most of their time in the house but we let them out into the yard. 


Spike for years has spent lots of time out, partly because for a lot of it he goes across the street and visits a human neighbor who lives alone.  Many are the times when I let him in after midnight. 


But last week he simply vanished for three days or so.  I was quite concerned (we do have coyotes in the neighborhood), and let it get to me.  Then Saturday evening my son came home from work (about 10PM; he works closing shifts), came back to our bedroom to ask if we'd found him, and then stopped and said, "Oh, here's the doofus right here."  He was lying on the floor in the bedroom doorway.


From the way he acted, he clearly was sore and not feeling up to snuff.  My guess is that he tangled with something that beat him up pretty good (or, perhaps, he suffered a glancing hit from a car, or a substantial fall, but he is not much of a climber so I really doubt that last), he escaped, came into the house silently and then lay low in the house (again, silently) for the several days while he recovered.  Right now our house is extremely cluttered, as we have stuff from two other dwellings of recently deceased family members piled all over, so there are vast numbers of hiding places that we simply can't guess.  He sniffed at food but didn't eat much Saturday evening.


We gave him some pain medication Sunday morning (yes, it's for cats, though prescribed for a different cat; more on that later) and that perked him up more and got him to eat.  He went into the vet Monday and seems to be suffering nothing lasting, which is consistent with the got-beat-up scenario.  He's on the mend, but still not interested in going outside.


Meanwhile, the senior cat (age 14 years) Hobbes is still alive, still dying of cancer.  Back in the middle of Spring Quarter I didn't think he'd make it to Mothers' Day. For a while he was refusing to eat, and we had a feeding tube put in; with pain meds, the injection of food despite his attitude perked him back up, though the tube only lasted a week and a half.  My Mother's Day checkout guess got bumped to Father's Day and then my birthday, and I have stopped making guesses.  He's very jaundiced, and we're keeping him on pain medication (the reason we had it on hand for Spike), anti-nausea drugs, and appetite stimulants, and giving him fresh food and treats whenever he wants, which during the day is every hour or two.  While he is nothing like adventuresome (he'll accompany you out into the yard, and then follow you back in), and he is very little more than skin and bones, he's not uncomfortable as long as we keep the medications (and treats) up.  How much longer he'll last is now just a guess, and if when it reaches the point where he can't move under his own power, or he's clearly uncomfortable despite everything we can do, then we'll let him go.  But right now we've had almost four additional months with him that we deeply cherish, even if he does come down and nag me every hour and a half while I'm at my workstation in the mornings and everyone else is asleep.

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