O'er A Shalbaster Tyde..

Language fails. Language will always fail. Even if you both were born at the exact same time, exact same place, you will diverge at some point and language fails where the braid of causality unravels into the chaos of the future. Capitalism, after all, is predicated entirely on exploiting the tenuous energy expended at the task of reconciling the failure of language, the inherent limitations on finite symbologies, from one consciousness to the next. But we keep trying, because we have to live. I throw a scrap of meat to the cat, and the cat eats it and appears to trust me for a little bit longer, and Foucalt gives a speech which is very beautiful to my limited grasp of language... but ultimately, language fails. Conflicting ontologies defeat our attempts at a comprehensive lexicon. These very words on this very page constitute cicatrices unhealed by any genetic contigency plan, gulfs too deep to cross, insults too scandalous to forgive. Language will always fail, and if you take into account the million inhabited planets, with their different races, the billion different universes spewing chaos into the void... well you have no choice but to throw up your hands and sigh and accept that none of us can ever, truly, agree on anything. We call this consciousness. We call this: thinking...

Aaaarrgh, a pyrate be I...

Meet Baby Alex

Button gave birth to a litter of 4 kittens last week. If there were more than 4 at any point, then there must be a horrible surprise hidden somewhere behind the shed.
This little guy was the first born, he wandered away from his mama just minutes after being born, slipped under the fence, and fell down into a deep crack in the pavement between the alley way and the fence. I could hear him meeping, but I couldn't find him right away. When I did find him, he was wedged face down in a crevice full of dead weeds and broken glass. I reached in and plucked him out, and now he is thriving.

Initially, I wasn't sure if it was o.k. to name him Alex... but yesterday, I did, and no sooner did I say so than he yawned, rolled onto his back and kicked his little legs in the air, revealing a pair of ENORMOUS TESTICLES. Way to live up to your namesake, baby Alex.