THAT DAY

I finish a milestone in the Capsica Project. Done with sculpting the globe, painting, naming, mapping, and writing tours. And mapping it all took just 14 years! Ready to start the illustrations?

My sister Miriel visits. We walk around Holly Park. She plays me some happy songs she wrote, "since I can't handle more grimness." I try to learn their chords and play along...

THAT EVENING

I read Mai Mochizuki's The Full Moon Coffee Shop, a pop-up cafe run by talking cats who seem to represent the planets and teach the customers (Euro!) astrology. A hit in Japan. Hmm. Emphasizes "universal" life stages ruled by planets/principles. But my life hasn't followed any such pattern. I just ricochet around...

TV: The Orville. Two shows--first a sex farce, as a blue alien guy radiating pheromones gets everyone horny, distracted, irresponsible, and rationalizing "no problem here!" Fun. Then a grim survivalist show, as Claire, her kids and Isaac get stranded on a plague-devastated world. No fun.

THAT NIGHT...

I meet an adorable cloud leopard, mist-pale, lush paw- prints flowering her pelt. She lazy-leans to prop a broad berry-basket on her hip heaped hill-high with white-oak acorns, hazelnuts and huckleberries blue. She has a teen complaint. "I feel sorry for rabbits, so I don't hunt. Mean adults in my pride steal my glean! I think a girl deserves the calories she's caught!" Pale cream tummy fur. Nipple shy peeks out. As does pink clit. I think she's hot. A tipsy huckleberry crawls over the woven lip and falls to the grass. I pounce, devour. Tease her with a chant: "O the berry injustice! Why can't grownuts [groan!] be fair?" Add "You could protest better--sure can't dance worse than me! Hootchy cootch on YouTube--caterwaul and rant how tiger parents mooch." Study break! I learn food-terms in Cat. Scribble the few I know, and magnet-pin my list knee-high on their fridge, below. These reared-up pumas tall ignore list and me, down on their floor, a pet to the Cat Family. Ape I stay beneath them. Why? We pets lack bed-rights, yet I seek to court a cloud-dappled bride. Is pet-humility really the way to win a girl with pride?

NOTES IN THE MORNING

• Cat people: in Mai Mochizuki's The Full Moon Coffee House, the talking cats (or are they planets?)
• White-oak acorns: the least bitter species; so little tannin they barely need leaching. Vegan catgirl knows her nuts!
• I sleep on floor, teen complains: on The Orville, Claire's family is shipwrecked. They sleep on the forest floor; her teenage son grumbles.
• List of foreign terms: in front of me as I type up this dream! German, Malay and Korean words for hot things. I'm checking Capsica's maps and gazetteer to be sure all major features are named & defined; I plan to base the last placenames on these words.
• Hot for another species: on The Orville, officers neglect their jobs to flirt and compete for that alien exuding pheromones
• Eat her berry: lick her nipples? clit? About the right size... if not hue.
• Blue: on The Orville, the pheromone-generating alien was blue.
• Compelled to "lower myself" before her "pride": my dreams are full of puns. But they mean it. When I'm attracted, I really do tend to crawl. Early abuse taught me males are creepy criminals, so I need to act gentle, harmless... and bland? Hardly a turn-on! Yet hard to change--when humility's a deeply ground-in habit.

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