#cat exploded

[goddessjuliawicker]

I guess...I guess Alice is gonna make great art now....

[levitudes-blog-blog]

Make good - KAMEOW.

It's been a while since I've blogged. You know, write down a bunch of things I thought about in the day, elaborate and make sense of thoughts and ideas. Not just the sad ones. The stupid and random ones too. I feel like I've lost that part of myself that loved to write and write and write, and writing kept me sane and awake, even if I will always be partially awake only in my head. I am this person, and I forget that the things I say matter. I have no idea to whom they matter. But they will. 

Twitter is the death of blogging probably. Random ideas just chucked into 120 characters, that sometimes isn't enough for the monologue in my head. I have great ideas, I swear. They're hilarious and stupid and awesome. There's just no one to hear it - because I don't say them. I don't say ideas, or thought processes. I've never had the habit of it. I guess since I am back to being me, and not feeling obligated to SAY whenever THINK occurs. Does that make me weird, that I don't SAY? That my thoughts stay either hidden or typed? The spoken word always diminishes the values of my thoughts, I felt. This domain, here, is where I feel most comfortable, where I am me. Perhaps when I stopped blogging, I stopped thinking. Perhaps I grew numb to the voices in my head telling me to think and to feel and to know myself in all its strange knobs and intricacies. 

That stuff up there? What I wrote? That's how I think. 

Now let's get down to why I wrote this thing. I was going to tweet this, but it just didn't seem enough to explain why it happened the way it did. 

I was watching a video off Upworthy.com, which is a great site advocating opinions and concerns of Americans. This video I was watching was an old excerpt from Neil Gaiman, about making good art. "Do it on the good days, do it on the bad days." I forgot that for awhile. I must remind myself to do that. 

Anyway, the excerpt goes like this: "Husband runs off with a politician? Make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by a mutated boa constrictor? Make good art. IRS on your trail? Make good art."

And then this fantastic, wonderful, amazing line: "Cat - CAT EXPLODED?" 

CAT EXPLODED?!

I was so tempted to type that out on twitter and just let people wonder. Just to ponder over the meaning of that. Cat. Exploded. KAboom. KAmeow? 

I don't know why I find it so brilliant. It's not even an important part of the speech (which is altogether a very important speech). But it's the sheer and utter nonsense of the image, all randomness and absurdity tied up in a cute bundle of fur - and I guess guts? Don't get me wrong, I love cats, I love every kind of cat. I'm literally one of those people who believes that once she gets a cat, all her life problems will be over. But the IMAGE. The IMAGE of a little fluffy cat with the whiskers and the ears and the bowtie -  poof! exploded. Destroying all little girls hearts in an event with no reason, and the resonating smell of half-digested fish. 

It's brilliant! ... isn't it? 

And yes, that is all I have to say today. Go search up exploding cat gifs on tumblr, make some good art, and get an early night's rest. God knows I'll need it. 

[thalassaraasch]

When things get tough, this is what you should do: Make good art. I'm serious. Husband runs off with a politician -- make good art. Leg crushed and then eaten by a mutated boa constrictor -- make good art. IRS on your trail -- make good art. Cat exploded -- make good art. Someone on the Internet thinks what you're doing is stupid or evil or it's all been done before -- make good art.

Neil Gaiman