[this story is satire] From the Diary of Rocky the Cat with an Attitude
5/31/03: Went down to Union Station in the a.m., applied suction cups to my feet and jumped on top of the Amtrak train for a free ride to Chicago. After eight-hour odyssey arrived in Chicago. Ah, the Windy City! New life coursed through my veins. I hopped in a cab to Nena’s place. Along the way the following dialogue occurred:
Driver: You look weird.
Me: Shut up and drive, troglodyte.
Nena was not home. Strolled around her trendy Wicker Park neighborhood, sprayed on a few poseurs etc., etc. Put on a beret, went into an art gallery, looked at a painting (“Untitled”) while twirling my whiskers. Ate a big hot dog. Returned to Nena’s; still not home. In the evening I went to a poetry reading and saw my old friend Gustav the hepcat, who is, unfortunately, not the hepcat he once was — his verse has declined dramatically. I found myself lowering my eyes and looking away as he read. Towards the midnight hour went tomcatting, with success, needless to say.
6/1/03: Found out Nena was out of town. Decided to pay a visit to J.’s friend Paola, for whom desire had been smoldering in me for some months. Went to her apartment a bit north of downtown and was shocked — indeed, crestfallen — to find that she is no longer single, has, in fact, a dashing lover, a certain Alexandre, a diplomat from Brazil. I was sad. Paola gave me a hug, and Alexandre chucked me lightly on the chin to cheer me up, and my spirits brightened somewhat. We three then went to the HotHouse, where a band from Brazil was playing. The dynamic Alexandre jumped onstage and started dancing and singing with the band. I was stunned. He then motioned for me to join him, so I jumped onstage for a samba version of “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.” Very very hot.
6/2/03: Back home again. S I G H.