August 30, 2009


Meeting of Cantaria in Rich’s garden. I thought it was going to be worse than it was. DJ thought it was just as bad as he expected. By this he meant that some people still blame MP for wanting excellence, and some people really don’t want excellence at all, but a sort of party with a theme. I don’t know what I want. I want a chorus of Thrones and Principalities that order and delight every ear that hears them.

We had nametags with glue on the back. I came home and stuck mine on Circe’s back. I thought we were playing, but her reaction was immediate and ghastly. She ran off, panicked, trying for a second or two to scratch or shake the thing off, but, being too afraid, would take off running again before she made any progress. I had to trap her in my room and close the door against her frantic escape before I could get close enough to pull it off her myself. She disappeared under the dresser for a long time. I couldn’t understand what would cause her to react that way to something which couldn’t actually hurt, something the likes of which she could not have experienced grievously before. But mostly I thought how inscrutable are the minds of others, even if they are a cat, how their strengths and weaknesses remain invisible until the unsuspecting moment.