Terrible Morning

It is absolutely imperative that I stop meowing, but I REFUSE!  I've been so riled up ever since I upended the mug of water on Morgan's bedside table, that I can scarcely bring myself to do much else but EMOTE, CONSTANTLY.  Just now I've chased the lesser Tiger Power from the kitchen into the hallway, then into Charlie's empty room and up through his window and onto Mother's stairs.  Then I ran up on the stairs and chased her back down through the window and into the living room, and behind the car seat, where I felt my dominance had finally been asserted.  At this point, Morgan chased me into the kitchen, crying "you are being a MOTHER FUCKER!" before she heaved a pen at me.  It is times like these, dear diary, when I truly abhor my own behavior, yet when I am subject to these spells it is so very hard to break free.  Mother is in her room, and I wish to heaven that she would acknowledge my pleas for breakfast - nay - lunch even!  But alas, her slumber cannot be broken.  And so my primal instincts lead me to stalk the house in search of prey, howling to the powers that be that I might come across a meager snack at the baseboard of the kitchen sink.  What a wretched, hateful soul am I.

Extending the Homestead

Hello blog-readers of the universe, specifically those who have been somehow directed here of all places. Hello and welcome to the fifth-someodd installment of my personal account of things. Today's subject will be: Charlie Immer and you.

Charlie Immer is my beloved roommate and life-long human friend. He is also an epic oil painter and illustrator, the owner of every season of Seinfeld, and a hygenic and altogether sound-minded individual who has immaculate taste in music to boot. That said, and in keeping with life's general irony and ass-backwardness, he is moving out at the end of the month. Without belaboring reasons why, other than to say that it is by no fault of my own (I am merely a cat), and that no hostile feelings are in play whatsoever (quite the opposite in fact), the point here is that we are now in search of a new roommate.

I will now proceed to list pertinent information for all prospective Bushwick-dwellers and friends of prospective Bushwick-dwellers who may be on the lookout for places on their prospective Bushwick-dweller-friends' behalfs. For the convenience of those reading this particular entry and to avoid any confusion about the number of people living here, I will adopt the first hand voice of one of my human roommates.  And please don't ask me how I know all this information, just trust in its unbiased accuracy.  

LOCATION & SURROUNDING AREA:
We (Morgan, Charlie, Jing, Colin) live on the Morgan stop on the L, which may be considered West Bushwick. It is a Very Safe Area ( = a couple isolated blocks of hipsters who make each other feel simultaneously secure and insecure.). We live two blocks from the subway, which means we don’t have to take into consideration walking time to the nearest stop when we are planning to go somewhere "on time" (what is that?) It takes about 20 minutes to get to Manhattan. Establishments of interest on these two blocks include: an organic bodega/grocery store (too expensive, but convenient for select items like their $4 falafel wrap), a coffee shop/internet cafe/movie rental place (decent bagels and friendly atmosphere), an art gallery (totally whatevz), a middle eastern eatery ($3.50 falafel wrap…), a soon-to-open liquor store (finally), and around the corner on our street is an overpriced gourmet pizza place and an autobody shop (noisy during the summer but sometimes there is a lime-green Lamborghini). Down our street further is a wonton factory and a pretzel factory (some day we will find a way to procure the reject pretzels), and some kind of warehouse where welding occurs. If you continue past our street from the subway there is Flushing Ave, where we have grown to love Tony's Hardware (key--copying, kitten owning, hardware time capsule), Tina's Diner (god’s gift to hangovers and busted wallets), The Wreck Room (bar), and a Chinese food place which will remain anonymous (cheap as shit and humorously unreliable). Nearby on Knickerbocker there is a sizable thrift store with a wide selection of trend-approved garments.

BUILDING & NEIGHBORS:
Everyone seems nice and cool. There’s a band across the hall, and Irish cokehead next door, friends upstairs and a rave downstairs with a bohemoth fucking subwoofer. There is a laundry room in the basement which is convenient on the off chance that the machines are dryers are both working. When they are not, we have a heater and a fan. There are three locking doors between the outside world and our inside funhouse, but for everyone’s convenience, the hallway door usually remains unlocked. We are on the second floor. No robbers. We have a buzzer, which is fun to use. There is a huge, awesome roof that we can play on and spit off of. If you have a death-wish, you can jump to the next building’s roof.

OUR SPACE:
It is a loft of about 1000sq ft. Our rooms are “stacked”, which is to say, mine is up against the left wall, and my ceiling/colin’s floor is about 6ft off the ground. Accordingly, his room is directly above mine, and he uses a ladder to climb into it from the living room. Charlie’s and Jing’s rooms are in the same format, and the two stacks of rooms are separated in the middle by a hallway leading from the kitchen into the living room/studio area. We also have a bathroom. Part of the kitchen is used as studio space, part for cooking and eating. The living room is also half studio, half super partee/tv/battleship/hangout time. We have a tv which is useful for watching Seinfeld, TYRA, and various courtroom shows. There are great big windows taking up almost the whole street-facing wall of the living room! They are great windows, and emit much light. There is still a light sprinkling of higly offensive porn around the apartment from the second annual “Fuck Me Christmas” party.

CHARLIE’S ROOM:
Charlie’s room is the bottom room on the right. The wall facing the hallway is mostly “door” space, but can be replaced with an actual door, if it is desired. There is one small window facing Jing’s stairs, which was never widened on account of Charlie’s nocturnal lifestyle. The drywall was not finished on the inside when we moved in, so there is slightly more space! Or we can fix it. Other than that, it looks like all the other rooms. It is about 8”x8” and 6” high, and stunning. It’s most recent modification are two discreet holes drilled in the wall it shares with the kitchen, for spying capabilities.

US:
We are all awesome. You probably already know us. If you don’t, we are two chicks and a dood, or two illustrators and a filmmaker respectively. We like to have people over and host/go to parties, though we are nevertheless completely responsible, trustworthy, and productive. We enjoy like totally hanging out, making fun of stuff and each other, harassing our cats, cooking, playing UNO, collecting bizarre things and super-awesome VHSs's's', art, music and all related snobbery, knowing everything about Seinfeld, spying through our peephole and eavesdropping through our buzzer, hiding out in our rooms, finding the cheapest taco, buying and drinking 3 dollar wine, and meeting like-minded individuals. We also have two very important cats: Groover (yours-truly, the moderator and author of this blog) and Tiger Power (her blog can be found through mine, though she is much, much stupider and I don’t recommend actually attempting to read it.)

MISC:
Some combination of laziness and openness prevented us from ever getting doors for our rooms. We all have some combination of curtains and blinds. You can have a door if you want, we won’t judge. In fact if you want a door, way to go on taking a step further into adulthood, I say. Rent is $625 + utilities, but excluding water. There is a pull-up bar.

The Christmas Belt

I behaved regrettably earlier today, prompting my roommates to fasten a sort of belt around my paunchy midsection, just above my fupa.  This belt - fashioned from the severed collar of a christmas sweatshirt - is an accessory I am known to dislike, and naturally I have been having some feelings of resentment, and subsequent guilt.  In my defense, and as evidenced in the photos above, I did spend some length of time donning the embarrassing article before Mother was gracious enough to remove it.   At this point I was stung again by the laughter of someone commenting on the feminine way that I "skipped" out of the garment as if it were a pair of panties.  O but were it not for the fur covering my tender jowls, they would see the shame spread across my face like a wildfire across the dry, suburban hills of California.

Following this series of events, I was forced to demonstrate my inability to play the keyboard - a human device with which no feline should be expected to have any acquaintance.  In my exit from the scene I trampled several keys which emitted an apparently humorous tone - Curses!!  

Both situations were mortifying, and at the risk of sounding like a Grumpy Gary and turning my hopeful blog into a sounding board for complaints and painful experiences, I rather wish this day hadn't happened at all.  And on top of it all, I can't figure out how to post the aforementioned photos in the proper order.  Damn it all to hell, then.

Stormy Waters

Even with this blog I am finding it very hard to keep silent.  Right now, I am yelling and screaming to no one in particular!  Sometimes, my meows are not so much as a full second apart, the effect of which must sound similar to a car alarm.  O how I regret my hateful mid-afternoon tendencies, but I mustn't give up hope that they can be replaced through my use of this blog.  I think I'm going to go slash at my litter box.

Skeletons In The Closet

Here is something I'm still trying to process.  It was pretty traumatizing when it first happened, and since then I've been working on talking about it more openly rather than keeping it bottled up and rehashing it over and over.  My hope is that by sharing this footage, the stinging humiliation captured therein will be sort of released from my mind, if onto the internet.  

A New Beginning

Hi, welcome to my new BLAAAAUUGHHHHWAUUGWAGGG.  

I decided to start writing here because I am tired of this sinking feeling that my early morning dissertations are altogether unappreciated and misunderstood.  On many occasions I have overheard my roommates bitching about my guttural, abrasive, unearthly voice and unbearable volume.  I can't accurately express my disappointment and - yes, anger - over their crass impersonations and outlandish interpretations of my varying speeches, especially given the urgency of the topics I have been trying in vain to discuss.  Suffice it to say that the whole situation has drawn many a tear to my eye, the heaviest of sorrows to my heart, and, on occasion, the swiftest rage to my bear-like paws.  Though my cat-ness leaves me unable to respond out-loud in English (try as I might), I am more than proficient in stomping all over the keyboards of the humans' computing machines.  As such, I intend to embark on this blogging journey with an open mind and a silent mouth, with the sincerest hope that it inspires a more productive inter-species dialogue, and reduces the daily physical and psychological abuse that I currently endure.

My goal is to blog every day, in order to establish a regular pattern of expression and healing, and to encourage steady readership.  I know it will be hard to find time for this between eight-hour nap sessions and my fiendish binges, but I have already thought of some strategies for sticking with it.  For example, right now I am sleeping and writing simultaneously! Some entries will be mundane accounts of my day, some will be intellectual and philosophical meanderings, others sociopolitical rants.  All will have at least one accompanying photo, for visual interest.  As you read, please keep in mind that your comments will represent the other half of this open dialogue, so don't hold back.  

Thank you in advance for your interest and participation!  

xoxo

Groover Wei