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I was referring to the present in past tense
In paleontological news: Siberian permafrost yields cave lion kittens. "At least one of the cats, seen in a photo released with the announcement, is so delicately preserved that even its fur is intact. The kitten has been frozen this way for at least 10,000 years, although the initial report notes that they could be even older." I find this scientifically fascinating and sort of horrifiedly adorable.
I saw my own cats this afternoon, not at all frozen and very affectionate. After an early doctor's appointment, I spent way too much time on public transit (including an extra hour waiting for the 51, during which time I ate my scallion pancake sandwich from Mei Mei and read a book of Greek rebetika) and arrived in time for Autolycus to greet me at the door. He climbed into my arms and hung from my shoulder like a young bat, purring. About half the time I was working at the dining room table, he was curled up near me with his eyes contentedly half-closed; the other half of the time he decided I had paid enough attention to the computer and should maybe notice the cat a little now. Hestia leapt onto the radiator in the dining room and then flopped sideways for belly-petting, so that I had to use my other hand to keep her from ecstatically writhing her way off the radiator cover and onto either the U-Haul boxes or the floor. She played with a stuffed mouse in the living room, batting it so that it bounced off the couch and she could pounce on its unpredictable arc. Autolycus attempted to guilt-trip me into fetching down the cat treats from the lintel of the bedroom door by directing his gaze soulfully upward and emitting a plaintive, high-pitched croon. It did not work, but I did feed them dinner.
Meanwhile, what the hell was going on sixty years ago under Government Center?
I saw my own cats this afternoon, not at all frozen and very affectionate. After an early doctor's appointment, I spent way too much time on public transit (including an extra hour waiting for the 51, during which time I ate my scallion pancake sandwich from Mei Mei and read a book of Greek rebetika) and arrived in time for Autolycus to greet me at the door. He climbed into my arms and hung from my shoulder like a young bat, purring. About half the time I was working at the dining room table, he was curled up near me with his eyes contentedly half-closed; the other half of the time he decided I had paid enough attention to the computer and should maybe notice the cat a little now. Hestia leapt onto the radiator in the dining room and then flopped sideways for belly-petting, so that I had to use my other hand to keep her from ecstatically writhing her way off the radiator cover and onto either the U-Haul boxes or the floor. She played with a stuffed mouse in the living room, batting it so that it bounced off the couch and she could pounce on its unpredictable arc. Autolycus attempted to guilt-trip me into fetching down the cat treats from the lintel of the bedroom door by directing his gaze soulfully upward and emitting a plaintive, high-pitched croon. It did not work, but I did feed them dinner.
Meanwhile, what the hell was going on sixty years ago under Government Center?
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They are a constant source of delight to me.
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WHAT THE HELL ASS BALLS
That sure is an image that gets my attention. Symbolic sacrifice? Construction workers' mummers' play? I got nothing right now to explain why there are a pair of starry robes with messed-up silver masks on the top.
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I really can't argue with that.
Symbolic sacrifice? Construction workers' mummers' play? I got nothing right now to explain why there are a pair of starry robes with messed-up silver masks on the top.
My first thought was, "Okay, so that's where the Church of Starry Wisdom went . . ."
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I'm having trouble finding a good photo now that the new glass structure has come to dominate the internet, but the old station was under a Brutalist brick ziggurat . . .
(Can I get you to write this story? Or poem? I'm not picky. I know I still owe you birthday poetry.)
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I remember the ziggurat! I haven't been by the new site on foot recently enough to see what the new place is like. As long as the Cockroach of Park Street still lives, Boston will not fall; however, Government Center was taken down in its entirety and the city hasn't tottered, so it can't have been a ziggurat of great mystical importance.
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Yay!
I haven't been by the new site on foot recently enough to see what the new place is like.
Me neither, although apparently the answer includes "hilariously flawed in the grand tradition of construction projects in Boston."
As long as the Cockroach of Park Street still lives, Boston will not fall; however, Government Center was taken down in its entirety and the city hasn't tottered, so it can't have been a ziggurat of great mystical importance.
I mean, they built it in '63. Clearly it had other purposes.
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Also, what a cool discovery, although, I do seem to be being stalked by mummified cats this month, and today in particular.
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It was splendid. I look forward to the day when I do not have to endure at least a two-bus transfer in order to see them.
Also, what a cool discovery, although, I do seem to be being stalked by mummified cats this month, and today in particular.
. . . Where else have they turned up?
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Meanwhile, have some Bad Cats.
Hic non defectus est, sed cattus minxit desuper nocte quadam. Confundatur pessimus cattus qui minxit super librum istum in nocte Daventrie, et consimiliter omnes alii propter illum. Et cavendum valde ne permittantur libri aperti per noctem ubi cattie venire possunt.
Here is nothing missing, but a cat urinated on this during a certain night. Cursed be the pesty cat that urinated over this book during the night in Deventer and because of it many others [other cats] too. And beware well not to leave open books at night where cats can come.
Nine
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"And did he ever return? No, he never returned, and his fate is still unlearned . . ."
Et cavendum valde ne permittantur libri aperti per noctem ubi cattie venire possunt.
It's still good advice!
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I believe it's traditional to blame the Freemasons.
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But I didn't see an eerie animatronic George Washington anywhere!