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She likes my journal !!

They have better beds on the A ward.

Small Spider rocket.

January 15th, 2001

Spider Cat
I just came down from upstairs after feeding Spider. I took the digital camera, but getting him in the lens wasn't easy and the flash washes him out whenever he's too close. Paws on your neck and nose on your chin is too close. There's an adjustment on the Nikon that allows you to back off the flash, but I haven't used it in months, and, well, I'm in a "push the button, anything will do" mode. I'm thinking of ways to make this phase into a positive step on the way to photographic nirvana: "You've got to go through times of bad shooting before you can get back into times of even better shooting. They talk about it, I'm sure, in the photography texts. So it's OK. Really." Yeah. I can rationalize that. No he doesn't have glaucoma. I worked over his eyes in Photoshop, but couldn't quite get them to look, um, you know, like eyes. Hi, ho. Monday. After work. In Oakland.

Wuss doesn't seem to have an opinion on the subject. Spiders are for chasing across the floor and eating. Anything else is some of that crap we talked about yesterday.

Another day at work. The town was half empty with the Martin Luther King holiday, so I was able to Spider three months later. park on the street across from the building when I got in at seven. Walked over to the cafe, had breakfast and read the paper. I'd rather have taken the day off, if only to show respect for Reverend King. But I didn't. A long day verging on the surreal. I have no way to describe it and probably wouldn't if I could. It's rather like working in a building filled with little islands of people, none of them really talking with one another and although that sounds right to me, I'm wondering how much or how little of the picture I understand. The five blindfolded people who touch an elephant and then are asked to describe what the animal looks like. One person describes the trunk, one the tail, one the great big leathery ears. (I know, some of them have smaller ears and who knows whether or not they're leathery? Not I.) That may well be my problem, a small cog in a larger office in a company with many offices. So I'll stick with Surreal, Dumbo's sister.

I've been reading Jung's Memories, Dreams, Reflections at the suggestion of a friend. My experience of reading Jung in my early twenties was not encouraging: I had no idea what he was talking about. This time around, thirty years of context later, I'm following along. I'm curious to see where he's going. This gives me pause to consider all of the other authors I found incomprehensible when I was younger. Do you suppose I should go back now and see if they make sense? Nah.

Spider the cat was shot with a digital camera just now. The quote is by Samuel Johnson.