A state of cat report: Wuss has eaten an entire can of the vet prescribed cat food without complaint today and another two containers of Sheba Tender Meaty Chunks for Cats (one turkey, one beef) when I got home and I can assure you he is processing it without interruption. So I assume the Wuss is better. (He still worries me a little, but, you know, I think he's gotten better.) So now I'll go and get one of those automatic self raking kitty litter boxes. Everybody says an automatic self raking kitty litter box is better than sex (and who am I to argue?) so since it looks like Wuss is going to be around for a while, I'll go out and spend the money. What does this say about fast living in Oakland? I don't recall discussing kitty litter in the old days, straight shots with beer backs at a San Francisco bar discussing art, life, cat piss and kitty litter. Does yours? Like mine?

A state of the Proprietor report: I have to admit this walking to work every day is getting easier, that climbing the hill at the end of the day goes more and more quickly and I'm thinking I'm one hell of a fellow, but what do I do for an encore? Although I've been writing this journal pretty much on time, I haven't been on time with anything else. I haven't been doing anything else. The walking: good. The photography: stuck in a rut, but hopefull. The journal: needs a more interesting direction. And practice. I've been grumbling about writing less and doing other things in the evenings, you know, set up the stereo, move out the boxes, vacuum the rug, but I have this thought in the back of my mind that the journal is going in a good direction even if the current writing is scattered and weird. I don't have a handle on the narrative and it doesn't flow very well, but I can feel it coming. Like playing with the gearbox looking for first, you're not there yet, but it's a touch and feel thing where you know you'll find it. I do too much rewrite (or not enough rewrite) and that makes the rhythm wooden and that makes me a little crazy, but that's just part of the practice. Your focus folds down to the size of a computer screen and your mind turns to mush but you keep it up. You hope when you read it tomorrow that it makes sense, well, not sense, but that it reads well even if it doesn't convey any information. Thoughts are optional.