Dog Mind etc.

I said I have a lot in common with dogs, didn’t I? Well, I was just thinking: if I get to feeling any more abandoned than I do at the moment, I might admit myself voluntarily to an animal shelter. I remember Sarah’s sister wanting a dog at one time. Maybe she would take me in and throw me the odd biscuit now and then. Problem is, I don’t chase balls too well these days, neither do I walk to heel, and I’m nothing like as cute as a Cocker Spaniel, so maybe I shouldn’t get my hopes up.

Do you know, I swear if I don’t bump into Sarah soon, I’ll forget what she looks like, and she me. Which is, of course, rather more my loss than hers.

Nobody loves me, you know. I really do need to sit in a corner somewhere and gaze sadly at passers by. I do.

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This is odd. I have no trouble whatsoever picking up Frank Sinatra’s phrasing. It comes naturally. But I can’t get Luke Kelly at all.

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I wish I knew how to play mind games with people. If I did, I could maybe provoke a response from that one corner of the universe at which my antenna is forever pointed. But I don’t. My problem isn’t so much the lack of psychological acumen, more the fact that I was born up front. It’s that dog thing again.

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I wonder whether my Chinese ghost is still pursuing her interest in life. I am, but I’m just a hopeless case. That’s the arcane bit of the post.

Night.