Live! Tonight! Sympathy For Cats!

This is a dream...

Just a dream...

Mine, Baby...

The scene: Dark lounge. Smoky. Drinks flowing. All eyes on stage for tonight's performer. The one. The only. The Master of the Good Strong and Chairman of Dreams and Delicacies...

Reverend Rob Vaughn...

Good evening, everyone. I hope you are all enjoying such a fine night and I'm so happy to welcome you to my place. As you know I don't sing and I don't have any music to present. Just a big lovely dose of Rob.

(Kind applause)

Thank you, thank you. I see some familiar faces out there this evening. A few new ones as well. Nat! Glad you could join us. Welcome to all this. Enjoy your night out. Christi. Wow. It is so nice to see you after such a long time. Miss Jenny, I see you, too. Don't think I'd forgotten about you. Still indulging the ill-fated I see. It's alright. You're living it, not me. Thank God for that. I couldn't afford to drink much more! Hahaha. Well welcome. Stunning as ever...

Now everyone, just play a little soft music in your head to accompany tonight's performance. Pick something smooth and not too distracting. Maybe some Miles Davis--Sketches of Spain maybe? Or for my less classical folks, some Sigur Ros--something from the early days like Von. Just make sure you're comfortable and catching the gold I'm tossing your way...

So tonight I must tell you about a new weakness I've developed. I was standing outside in the cold, cold early evening at a bar that serves the frutiest of sugar sweet tropical drinks where a guy like me has to politely ask for the superfluous umbrellas to be removed. Maybe if I went in there enough I could give the career barkeep a knowing nod and we'd have an unspoken understanding that involves me drinking something tangy and not feeling guilt--conversation free, guilt free, hassle free. Ah, now why can't we all have that? But I'm getting ahead of myself. Right now, I'm standing outside waiting on my evening company and with a trot trot trot in my general direction comes a tiny kitten.

Cats I've always despised and kittens I never had much more use for. I'm allergic and their general disposition reminds me of some psychotics that I've dated--and some I didn't. But this little kitty cat looked at me with different eyes. Begging, pleading I might think. For something the way some of us look when we're out in the world in our habitual surroundings--a bar, a club, a party, a church maybe. We want others to be convinced of our peace, but know that if anyone looks deep enough in those troubled eyes... Well the jig might be up, eh?

The kitty tugged at my heart the way kitties just never have before. My sweet-fated little princess recently lost a cat of hers. At first I found myself making a hard effort to sympathize. But it was never in her love for her cat that I found the ability to finally feel for her. Instead, it was in her pain, her loss, her suffering that I found some common ground. Some of us mourn for things we've never had and only hoped we once had. Well I think she had it and even if I've only thought I had "it", I knew the loss of it--or maybe just the misplacement of it--is a hard pill to swallow.

I just thought about how the sacrifices of our youths were made easy by our parents. Medicine? No, thank you. Oh, it's in the shape of a Flintstone? Give me eight! Eight hour road trip! Fuck no! I get a toy if I keep my mouth shut? I'll be a monk, Mama.

But I've really had no way of easing her pain. Hers is real and can't be masked with form or distraction. That combined with the look of the kitty. Well, I now have sympathy for cats. Even the things we're sure we hate or will kill us by stopping our breathing while increasing the size of our heads and making our eyes turn red can surprise us. So I suppose there's hope for all of us if I can find the good in such evil little things...

Of course for many of us, there's nothing more evil than Valentine's Day--a conspiracy involving the Vatican, Hallmark, and Oprah that I can't speak of any further for fear of sharp objects that might angle for my more awesome parts...

No, I'm kidding. Like 60%. Swear. I hope those of you with a significant other loved the shit out of each other! I spent my evening in a bar with assorted friends--none of whom it turns out was a good prospect for me getting laid. The closest someone came to me that evening was a drunk old friend named Randy who felt it necessary to impart some wisdom upon me. Or he felt the need to comfort me. Or fucking freak me out. I don't know.

"Rob. You're a good looking guy. A big guy."

"Thanks, Randy".

"If I looked like you, I'd have every bitch in this place spread out on the floor ready to fuck me."

"Uh...Thank you?"

"Hey man. It's all about attitude."

And isn't life really all about attitude boys and girls? Judging from Randy's breath, it's also about 8 pints of the bar's finest Budweiser. But who am I to judge a great man's inspired musings?

Let me tell you who I will judge. I know this deaf guy who is a neighbor of mine. And he doesn't bother with all that sign language shit. He defeats me with his manly Marlee Matlin voice constantly. But he also defeats me with his sour view of life and his constant complaining about things he shouldn't complain about. He's a real asshole. But that, my friends, somewhat redeems my faith in the world. To know that the disabled can be giant pricks like everyone else confirms the true equality of men, no matter the burdens put upon them.

Speaking of burdens, a girl I've been attempting to create a dalliance with has casually dated me--all while casually losing interest in me. I've kissed her passionately and told her jokes and made her smile and conveyed my overall good taste. But to no avail. Have my Latin kisses I've always prided myself on lost their previous touch? Possibly. Yet I am comforted that the truth most likely is that she doesn't like me that much. And it doesn't bother me. I may just be in the need of new pursuits.

So I think that the moral of sympathy for cats, the need for an attitude change, that deaf guys can be assholes, and that a pretty girl doesn't like me too much is...well. Hmmm. I think it means that I need to open my mind to new pussy, approach it differently, while not letting the disabled get in the way of my happiness. Just a theory. But nearly all we do is based on this theory or that my friends. I'll chase the chase with a smile on my face, a drink in my hand, and a courageous heart. I will just go. No regrets. Honestly. With no compromises. Sarcastic wit at my side and the hope that tomorrow brings. Or fuck it, I'll go home and watch TV. It'll all be fine my friends. My goal is to passionately make love to...whoever it should be. Soon. Fiercely. Greatly.

Goodnight my faithful friends and family. Please tip my imagined waitresses with lots of your imagined money. They need their dreams, too...

Lights dim. Soft applause. This is a dream. Just a dream...

Album of the Week: "Rodrigo y Gabriela"

Artist: Rodrigo y Gabriela

Song Highlights: "Tamacun", "Diablo Rojo", "Stairway to Heaven", "Juan Loco"

Song of the Day: "I'll Believe in Anything"

Artist: Wolf Parade

Album: "Apologies to the Queen Mary"

Lyric of Possible Relevance:

"If I could take the fire out from the water

I'd share a life and you'd share a life

If I could take the fire out from the water

I'd take you where nobody knows you

And nobody gives a damn."