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My Solomon

I lost my beautiful Solomon last night. My lovely boy, my best friend. with the softest chin, and sweetest belly, Who, in sleep, the deepest dreaming sleeps, looked more like an Abstract Expressionist painting than a cat He was my watcher, my guardian of windows, fierce in ways that his mildness made you forget, gentle […]

Morning here…

Though I do like sleeping in, at least the idea of it, it’s always overruled by hungry cats. But at least I don’t miss this face, this way, first thing. Or the way the light slides in, softly slicing away at the floors and tabletops, setting glass on fire. Good morning, everybody.

Life on Earth, a play in one brief metaphorical act

Open on : A bucolic morning, soft and quiet, punctuated by patches of sunlight.   Solomon dozes, and Oliver ponders, and eventually they fall asleep together, on the appropriately named daybed, paws just touching. Silence extends four minutes. The audience is given time to soften. Solomon:     Whah? Oliver:         Huhn? Solomon: […]

Interior, with Solomon

First of all, Solomon is fine. Since Oliver came to live with us, he’s monopolized photographs and stories – Ollie’s the ham, the clown, the drama magnet with the cat-in-the-back-alley demeanor and flying saucer eyes. So when Solomon shows up on Flickr, in his camouflage, people immediately ask, is he ok? Has he passed? Is […]

Oliver’s Birthday

Penned by Oliver, on the occasion of his birthday: Today I am two. Whoopety–doo. My closest friend Solomon Treats me like poo. I have nowhere to go And nothing to do And no interest in finishing this stupid poem. Go away.

This Sunday, inside

I’m inside all this weekend, working on a commission. I work here all week too, so Sunday is usually about leaving, about running around, finding stuff, looking for places to look at, being with people. This is Sunday afternoon for Oliver and Solomon. It’s all about long sleeps, soft sofas, tolerating your frenemy. You know, […]

The Solomon

The amazing Solomon, shape shifter.A living Franz Kline painting, though in real life he would never be an action painting. A still life, maybe. He’s still. He thinks about things. He mulls and considers. He watches his young tabby roommate Oliver chase a red laser dot around the house but shows no interest. Why? It’s […]