Diary of a Cat

Descriptive psychology is probably, taken as a whole, a form of anthropomorphism,

Diary of a Cat.
Look at my face it is an abstract, it is a white wall which signs are inscribed on, ‘ginger cat, ‘tom’ cat, and me, self, the black hole is which consciousness is lodged.

And I know as I wander across roofs,  jump from walls, sharpen  my claws on trees, crouch at threats, that are at every turn when people (the other)  sees my face,  the machine called ‘society’  will reject me. For faces that do not conform or seem suspicious and are soon rejected,
The face is a deviance detector, yes; it is, for the ‘other’ - so now I don’t have a face, so there. I have erased all bodily parts in that scenario I still feel have a body, like the phantom limb, but without the organ that would stratify and regulate it. What happens when you take everything away?
Why am I doing this erasing myself? 

Well, I have tried psychiatry; you know where you nibble with the ‘other’ at your own limits. Then, I tried self help; you know where you try to pull yourself out of the mental slough, or swamp by your own pigtail.

I have tried living with my past shames. 

You out there, don’t judge, what i have done you are capable of unless you are living in a cocoon. Life for me has been a long affair of experimentation, guided by a stealthy and very necessary prudence – you try catching a bird while people shout at you. But as I said you don’t know what a body might do in some future given encounter. So don’t judge.

But I don’t think of shame as distinct toxic part of my identity, after all I am not a Catholic, Look, and shame can’t be excised. Shame is integral to and residual in the processes by which   identity it is formed. I need shame for my own metamorphosis, for my own reframing, refrigeration and transfiguration. There, that was a mouthful.
,
.

You see it is the economy of representation; people don’t have time, so you go into the overall representative grid

I appear not have an identity because discourse conceals, conformity
It is almost impossible to escape the societal loop, or noose, no matter how self reflective we perform, because it is the other, as \I stealth across a roof, play cruelly with a mouse, prolong its suffering, why does the Good Lord allow such suffering. I mean if he is omnipotent why didn’t he make a world without suffering, and if he allows suffering to test us, is that not as cruel as me prolonging the mouse’s suffering.
The other cats, just like other humans for you, are my credulous dupe. How am I performing in the face of them?  You have to perform for the other, and if they don’t recognize us we feel it is a form of oppression. The other we are organized, stratified and regulated by this machine

Look at me all I was when I had body - was a site of affectations,
I was built on the presumptions that precede it; knowledge is produced but only that which can be represented in thought. Go on, work that one out, I don’t even understand it

I have even tried praying when things got difficult, entered Churches to ‘think,
Showing the maximum of respect but with the minimum of credulity,
That vast mosaic brocade called religion. to outer that depressive Philips Larkin, he should have kept a cat for company. . Why not let our all these vast domes to rent, to ruin. If only he had kept a cat.

In place like this I can hear the echoes snigger, he have been a depressive Larkin but he was a dam fine poet. Oh they fuck you up your mum and Dad at least mine did. But l loved them so much and misses them so much.