Ian's off at a bartending gig, so I'm alone in the apartment.

Really alone, for the first time in over a decade.

No kitty cat to keep me company.

Even though she wasn't the most outwardly-affectionate cat, there's just something about having another warm body in the place...

As Ian blogged earlier in the week, the little things trip me up.

I can open my closet door without playing interference -- heck, I can leave my closet door open, and nobody's going to destroy anything inside.

Nobody's demanding to drink from the faucet when I try to brush my teeth, or tripping us in the halls.

We're sleeping better without her nightly interruptions, and Ian's finally catching up on the laundry now that she's not constantly dirtying more.

And I can't remember the last time I could open a can of anything without furry quivering attention. ["No, cat. It's pineapple. Pine-ap-ple -- see?"]

Miss you, baby...

Since I've spent so much time and pixels this week writing about (and drawing) Billy-boy, how about...

Khitomer Marlowe:

It's not perfect... but you get the idea.

[In a similar vein, a few years back, I drew Captain Kit, Pirate Cantabridgian]

Cat macros have inspired a Tom Smith song.
They're also getting (even more) meta:

The close proximity of these creations makes me think the fad may be running its course...

As I promised/threatened earlier, a Pokemon-style chart of the Shakespeare plays, each one illustrated with chibi figures:

What do you think?

And would anyone be interested in CafePress-style blank-books or totebags with this image?

One last entry on the statue for tonight (didn't expect I'd finally get caught up in that debate)...

For those who seem to think that this many people are all mistaken in the same way, I'm reminded of the proverb:

"If one person calls you an ass, laugh it off. If two do, be worried. If three or more people who seem to be fairly sound thinkers in most other respects call you an ass, buy yourself a saddle."

But it's easier to dismiss than try to understand. Sure, I can believe that the folks behind this statue didn't intend to cause offense, but that doesn't mean I also can't see why people find it offensive.

A comment to Ragnell's excellent post sums up the dismissive responses in this way:

So, here is what I've learned from the comics blogosphere over the past couple of weeks:

1. If one woman complains about sexism in superhero comics, she should be ignored because superhero comics are for men, and there's not enough female interest in the genre to merit consideration.

2. If many, many, many women complain about sexism in superhero comics, they should be ignored since they're all expressing similar opinions and are thus mindless sheep. Because it's not possible that so many women could actually be interested female comic book characters.

And people keep telling me there's no misogyny in comics!

And as a followup to my previous entry, Tom Hodges posted a followup. I'm still ticked off over having a perfectly good discussion taken offline, but that's the problem with debates taking place in individuals' blogs rather than the communal Usenet.

A little earlier, BoingBoing posted:

Fellow artist defends suggestive statuette of Spidey's girlfriend

In this statement, artist Tom Hodges defends the controversial Mary Jane statuette designed by his friend Adam Hughes for Marvel comics: Link.

An interesting discussion ensued in his comment threads.

Then, just in the middle of trying to rebut something, LJ gives me a message that:

User has disabled commenting on this journal entry.

The page summary shows there are 57 comments in the thread, but they've all been hidden. [I just hope he doesn't delete them; I don't have copies of everything I wrote, because as a nonpaying user I don't get automatic backups; I intended to go back and archive my comments, but missed the opportunity.]

Funny thing is, I had just been responding to someone complaining that the grapevine was only giving one-side of the issue.

And yet, it's hard to have a balanced discussion when one party keeps putting fingers in their ears and going "LA LA LA! CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

Because Hodges isn't the first party to delete dissenting comments -- Sideshow, the manufacturer of the statue, also engaged in that practice.

If they feel so strongly that they're right, why not engage rather than silence?

Sigh...

PS: The comment to which I was responding to when the thread went dark was Hodges complaining that nobody who knows anything about comics would think MJ was submissive.

To which I was trying to reply:

Of course I know MJ is FAR from submissive. So do most of the people complaining.

That's what's got folks upset.
Of all the possible poses, why did the PTB choose a statue that portrays her as such?

PPS: I read most of the comments, and didn't notice anything that would justify such a hasty closure of the discussion. People certainly disagreed with one another, but most folks were staying focused on the statue (and even those critical of the statue spoke favorably of his friend Adam Hughes' art). I saw no offensive language, personal attacks, or threats, of the kind that some of the female bloggers in these discussions have needed to excise.

While browsing forthcoming books about Shakespeare, I ran across a title to be published July 1st:

Cosmetics in Shakespearean and Renaissance drama by Farah Karim-Cooper

I seem to remember an online discussion with an author of Shakespearean-era fiction regarding stage makeup in Shakespeare's theater.

At the time, I didn't have an answer beyond supposition, but if the issue is still relevant, it looks like this could be of use.

PS: If you are the person who raised this question, or remember where the discussion was held, please let me know. Otherwise it's going to keep nagging me until I get the information to the appropriate party.

Having just finished (and very much enjoyed) The Shakespeare riots: revenge, drama, and death in nineteenth-century America, I'm currently in the mood for more books about Shakespeare and theatre history.

A few books which caught my eye include:

• This Wide and universal theater: Shakespeare in performance, then and now by David Bevington
• The Bard in the bluegrass: two centuries of Shakespearean performance in Lexington, Kentucky by Kevin Lane Dearinger
• How Shakespeare won the West: players and performances in America's Gold Rush, 1849-1865 by Helene Wickham Koon
• Shakespeare's America, America's Shakespeare by Michael D. Bristol
• Highbrow/lowbrow: the emergence of cultural hierarchy in America by Lawrence W. Levine
• Performing Shakespeare in the age of empire by Richard Foulkes
• Not Shakespeare: bardolatry and burlesque in the nineteenth century by Richard W. Schoch
• Shakespeare and the American nation by Kim C. Sturgess

A few other titles which also sound interesting:

• How Shakespeare cleaned his teeth and Cromwell treated his warts: secrets of the 17th century medicine cabinet by Katherine Knight
• Scorned my nation: a comparison of translations of The Merchant of Venice into German, Hebrew, and Yiddish by Dror Abend-David
• Shakespearean scholarship: a guide for actors and students by Leslie O'Dell

And, while browsing the databases, I came upon the following forthcoming books that I might enjoy:

• Shakespeare in American life by Virginia Mason Vaughan
• Shakespeare for the E Generation by Paul Illidge
• Food in Shakespeare: early modern dietaries and the plays by Joan Fitzpatrick
• Becoming Shakespeare: how a provincial playwright became the world's foremost literary icon by Jack Lynch
• Thinking Shakespeare: a how-to guide for student actors, directors, and anyone else who wants to feel more comfortable with the Bard by Barry Edelstein

I am such a geek...

So I've been reading all the kerfuffle over Marvel's Mary Jane statue (if you haven't already heard, start here and follow the links -- there and in later entries). I've avoided posting anything because I really didn't have anything to add that dozens (hundreds?) of bloggers haven't already said.

As I've seen in many other debates, initial outrage has been followed by attempts at belittling the attention given to the issue. And something in one of the myriad of posts reminded me of a quote by Lisa Fortuner on another internet dispute over the portrayal of women in comics:

[Censorship] is the opposite of sensitivity. Censorship is when you decline to show something because you will get in trouble if you do. Sensitivity is when you decline to show something because it will make other people uncomfortable. Censorship keeps you thinking of yourself as a person, while sensitivity has you thinking of the other as a person.

That's the most relevant and universal quote, although the continuation of the article also makes a useful point:

Since one of the major problems (if not The Major Problem) with the portrayal of female, minority, and LGBT characters is not thinking of them as people but rather as objects, quotas and plot points, this is a big difference.
In order to have a truly diverse range of characters who reflect the makeup of the population, you cannot have creators relying on cultural cliches and ingrained stereotypes as shortcuts. You need the creators to actually think about who they are creating, and understand basic identity politics. If they understand the complexity and scope of sexual assault in our society, how unoriginal an idea it is, and how dreadful it is to read, they won't bother with the hackneyed rape origin story for the female character. They won't make that Asian superhero with cultural powers they had the idea for, because they'd understand it's tired and it's insulting to potential readers.

BTW, when I showed Ian photos of the statue, he responded with shock and disbelief.
He always assumed that Peter did the laundry in their family. After all, he made the costume himself, and presumably spent a decade or more keeping it clean and mending it all on his lonesome for the years before anyone else knew his secret identity. He would've become a self-sufficient garment-care and laundry expert -- at least where his costume was concerned.

The notion of MJ washing the costume is just ludicrous...

PS: Whoops, just noticed that Tom Foss made the same point -- with comic scans to back it up...

PPS: Title for this entry from Sherlock Holmes in "The Second Stain"

LOL!speak continues to grow in popularity.

[For more information on the history/evolution/grammar of this phenomenon, see in-depth analyses from Anil Dash, Mark Liberman, David McRaney, and Simon Spero.]

Anyway, I've mentioned lolbrarians and LOLTrek, but there's also lolgeeks, which inspired me with another subject worth captioning...

Someone already beat me to the punch with Shakespearean lolcats, but how about pure lol!Shakespeare?

With assistance from the LolCat Builder 

What do you think?

Any other ideas?

A while back, chatting with a dramaturg friend of mine, he commented that Shakespeare's endings suck.

And they really do.

I'm not talking about what happens in the action, but how Shakespeare delivers it -- which is a challenge for modern directors.

For example, Cymbeline concludes with denouement after denouement, as characters reveal various plot points (which the audience already knows) to other characters. Individual characters only understand their part in the story, so they have to explain things to one another until everyone has the full picture.

Something similar happens in Titus, where the (surviving) characters inform the Roman citizenry of what just happened -- everything the audience saw in the previous five acts of the play.

Shakespeare is worse than the (typical) reveal in murder mysteries, because we the audience already watched all these things acted out.

Why do we need to be told what we just saw?

It's a question I've been pondering since my friend first pointed it out.

And I've now got an idea...

I'm in the middle of reading The Shakespeare riots by Nigel Cliff.

In 1849, a massive riot broke out in New York City (we're talking at least 20,000 rioters) fueled by a rivalry between two Shakespeare productions (the Scottish Play, of course).

But much of the book does an excellent job setting the scene -- explaining what Shakespeare meant in America and England, how it was acted and how it was perceived.

Modern theater is nothing like it once was.

Nowadays, we're more common with moviegoing. All seats face the screen in a pitch-black room. You can't see the rest of the audience, but that's fine because (except for shows like Rocky Horror) disruptions are unwelcome intrusions to the performance you came to see. Each spectator has an individual one-way relationship with the screen (or stage).

But that's a relatively recent innovation.

Drury Lane interior, c. 1808:

In the days before electric lighting, the audience was often as well-lit as the stage. Some theatres had gas lighting by the mid-19th century, but that merely improved contrast; it didn't plunge the auditorium into full darkness. [According to Wikipedia, Richard Wagner started/pushed the trend for darkening the auditorium during performances.]

So when people speak of the theater as a place to see and be seen, they weren't just talking about making a dramatic entrance (like modern red carpet walks) -- people-watching was a major part of the entertainment.

Furthermore, until theaters had microphones and amplification, you probably couldn't hear the stage that well anyway.

This was exacerbated by theater owner's attempts to maximize profit by cramming as many seats as possible into the theatrs. If you could barely see the stage and couldn't hear the actors, what was the attraction? Well, it was a great place to catch up with friends, particularly for poorer folk who may not have room in their houses to entertain.

Needless to say, all these distractions meant audience attention was only partially focused on the play itself.

No wonder Shakespeare felt the need to conclude his plays with a recap. It was all too easy for his audiences to have missed those points during the action, and he didn't want people leaving confused.

Make sense?

On a related note, Shakespeare's openings also often suck.

As I wrote last summer:

[T]he very first line in As You Like It is, effectively, "As you know, Bob...":

As I remember, Adam, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by will but poor a thousand crowns, and, as thou sayest, charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed me well: and there begins my sadness...

As a matter of fact, there are several exchanges in the first two scenes in which characters rehash things they already know for the audience's benefit:

There's no news at the court, sir, but the old news: that is...

And AYLI is hardly the only play guilty of this. I noticed it in Cymbeline, too.

Romeo and Juliet both summarizes the plot in the prologue and retells it at the end.

The old advice to "Say what you're going to say; say it; then say what you've said" was meant for nonfiction presentations, and works much less well in storytelling.

Frankly, I'm reminded of an exchange in The Great Muppet Caper:

Miss Piggy:	“Why are you telling me all this?”
Lady Holiday:	“It's exposition. It has to go somewhere.”

And realizations like this are one of the reasons I mock anyone who falsely lionizes Shakespeare's writing abilities.

He was damned good, but by no means perfect.

One more thing Cymbeline did was open my eyes to a new image of luxury.

Act II, Scene 2: Imogen is reading in bed:

Imogen:

Who's there? my woman Helen?

Lady:

Please you, madam

Imogen:

What hour is it?

Lady:

Almost midnight, madam.

Imogen:

I have read three hours then: mine eyes are weak:
Fold down the leaf where I have left: to bed:
Take not away the taper, leave it burning;
And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock,
I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly

I've heard of servants that wake you in the morning (rather than relying on impersonal and often-annoying alarm clocks).

But a personal bookmark!? Having a servant to fold over the page corners to mark your place?

Now that's luxury beyond my wildest dreams...

I'd never even considered that kind of task for delegation.

The New York Times review of Cymbeline makes the following comment:

The decision to cast Mr. Hiddleston in the roles of both Cloten and Posthumus is intriguing but not particularly illuminating, unless it is meant to suggest, again cynically, that the loutish Cloten and the mistrustful Posthumus are two sides of the same perfidious coin, twin examples of the varieties of masculine pathology.

Now, I didn't receive any kind of press kit, but I was curious about the choice to double that role -- both in this production and historically.

So I hit the search engines...

...and the second result was Cheek by Jowl's Education Pack (PDF), featuring an article specifically discussing "The Doubling of Posthumus and Cloten" (by Valerie Wayne, Bronwen Lawton and Melissa Chia).

Here's the relevant answers -- it reveals a number of plot points, so I'm posting this with spoiler protection. Highlight the text to read it:

Posthumus and Cloten are never on stage at the same time. As the play opens, Imogen refers to her husband as an 'eagle' and her stepbrother as a 'puttock', but those distinctions become quickly blurred when Posthumus is entrapped in a wager on his wife's fidelity and wants her killed because he thinks she has been unfaithful. Cloten, too, plans to kill Imogen but wants to rape her first. Are these characters really so different? As the play poses this question, it presents Imogen with the 'body' of Cloten dressed in the clothes of Posthumus, and the clothes fit perfectly. Whose body is this? Although Imogen claims to know the 'shape of's leg' and the 'martial thigh' of her husband, the audience knows she has confused one man for the other. Cynthia Lewis claims that at this moment the issues of misperception in the play reach their peak. Imogen's confusion is an ironic commentary on the similarities between Cloten and Posthumus, and we can sympathize with her predicament when we have shared in those confusions ourselves. Cloten reveals many of the boorish traits that Posthumus does not fully repress, and D.E. Landry claims he is a 'parodic double' of Posthumus's own instincts. Posthumus eventually changes from a murderous to a repentant and more loving husband, but that happens while he is absent from the stage. He is gone for all of acts three and four, and the character we see instead during those acts is Cloten. What we witness then, according to Homer D. Swander, is Posthumus's 'symbolic life and death in the caricature named Cloten'. When Cloten dies, the part of Posthumus that was most like Cloten dies as well. Using the same actor for both roles makes the connection between the two characters more explicit, so the death of one can contribute to the reform of the other. However, we may wonder for a moment how complete that transformation is when Posthumus strikes Imogen just before they are reunited.

Given all that, I can't help wondering why Mr. Isherwood is asking questions and I am providing the company's answers.

And, as I said before, I'm doing this without benefit of the press kit or the resources of the Times.

At any rate, I found it sufficient knowing that the roles were clearly designed to be doubled -- like the human and fairy monarchs in Midsummer Night's Dream or Cordelia and the Fool in Lear.

Furthermore, as I wrote in my review, I thought it was the perfect showcase for Tom Hiddleston. And if you've got an actor capable of pulling it off as well as Mr. Hiddleston did, why not give him the chance?

PS: While trying to title this entry, I came upon the following quotes in the play:

About Posthumus: “[H]e's honourable
And doubling that, most holy

and

Cloten, thou double villain, be thy name

Sometimes I love Shakespeare's wordplay...

Cymbeline is one of the more rarely performed of Shakespeare's plays.

It may be difficult -- the story is certainly complex -- but it was a most satisfying experience.

David Collings' Cymbeline:

Gwendoline Christie as Queen

For those unfamiliar with the story (which is most people), here's the setup:

The title character was king of England during the reign of Augustus Caesar.

As the play opens, two suitors vie for his daughter's affections. Imogen is expected to marry Cloten, her stepmother's son, but she prefers the lowborn Posthumus.

And from that simple start, Shakespeare pulls out all the stops.

The play includes:

rustics, royalty, royalty raised by rustics, Britains, Romans, Britains in Rome, Romans in Britain, evil queens, foolish kings, loyal servants, suspicious husbands, wronged wives, unreasonable fathers, headstrong daughters, wicked stepmothers, ambitious cads, malicious gossip, falsified evidence, imagined cuckoldry, divine visitations, magic poisons, false identities, faked deaths, failed diplomacy, crossdressing, estrangement, banishment, decapitation, ghosts and apparitions, jealousy, romance, ambition, deception, warfare... and a song.

In other words, everything but the kitchen sink.

Truly a magnificent tour de force.

Ian and I gaped in awe, marvelling as each new device was revealed. [The closest analogy to the experience would be watching a plate spinner or juggler, wondering how many items they could keep in the air, holding one's breath in awe.]

On our way home, we tried to think of any tropes Shakespeare left out, and finally came up with one: Cymbeline lacks a malaprop-spouting clown (a common omission in later plays, after Will Kemp left the company). Indeed, there are no fools at all in the story. Then again, it really doesn't need one.

But that's all Shakespeare's doing.
     How was Cheek by Jowl's production?

Flipping through a copy of the play afterwards, they definitely streamlined certain aspects.

I don't know how much of the play was cut, but most of the edits I noticed would belong in a DVD's deleted scenes -- generally additional exposition that didn't advance the plot.

We don't need 20 lines in the first scene explaining Posthumus' upbringing (I.1.34-60), particularly since the relevant information is revealed elsewhere (I.1.185). Details about Imogen's assumed identity were snipped, as were Posthumus' dream sequence. Nothing which really impacted the plot.

And, the story flowed. A brief dumb show added some color and interest to the introductory exposition. And as I said above, we were delighted by the twists and turns Shakespeare threw into it.

Tom Hiddleston as Cloten

Tom Hiddleston as Posthumus

Despite the title, the true star of the show was Tom Hiddleston, playing a double role as the cad Cloten and gentle Posthumus.

He was astonishingly good.

Costume-wise, the only difference between the roles two were a trenchcoat and a pair of glasses. All the rest he managed with voice and body language alone.

And yet, whether he played Posthumus, Cloten, or Cloten disguised as Posthumus, we didn't experience the slightest confusion over which character was onstage at any particular moment.

As a matter of fact, the characters were so distinct that it took several scenes before Ian or I realized they were played by the same actor -- and Hiddleston changed outfits onstage! That's talent.

Superman's Clark Kent disguise doesn't seem so implausible anymore.

Hiddleston plays Posthumus as a sweet and stammering innocent, who toughens up over the course of the play. I can see why Imogen fell for him. Cloten is smarmy and polished -- an arrogant rich snot who can't handle having his desires thwarted.

While no other actors played quite as ambitious a role (Hiddleston was the only actor playing doubles, aside from some of the minor servants/lords), the whole cast was solid.

Jodie McNee was a passionate Imogen. Like Cloten, she started as a rather demanding child of privilege, but her tribulations through the play mature her.

Gwendoline Christie made a fine fairy-tale villain as Queen. She's appropriately beautiful and polished -- you can see how she won the king -- but it's a brittle shell over a heart of pure ambition.

Guy Flanagan's Iachimo stood out as a suave seductive Italian. While in the role of Pisanio, Richard Cant embodied the perfect valet while avoiding the trap of imitating Jeeves.

Geek aside: When I saw Richard Cant's biography in the program, I immediately noticed his appearance in Doctor Who and filled with curiousity to know when and where. [He'll be in a forthcoming episode.] But looking up the rest of the cast in IMDB, my jaw dropped at David Collings' credentials, which include three episodes of Dr. Who (including the titular undead Mawdryn), Blake's 7 and (I know at least one reader who may find this interesting) Sapphire and Steel. Kyool!

In an odd directorial decision, the lost princes were portrayed less like the rustics Shakespeare described and more like noble savages.

Also, I noticed no gender or racial cross-casting in the company -- which is getting rare enough to be worthy of comment.

But the plot was engaging enough to overlook any such lapses.

I'll just sum up this way. Ian and I spent about nine hours on the bus -- effectively dedicating an entire day -- to see this production of Cymbeline. We both agreed, it was well worth our time.

PS: In the audience, I met a Toronto actor in town for some auditions. I apologize, but I forgot your name. If you happen to find this, drop me a note, because I'd love to see you on stage. Thanks!

A few random thoughts...

I think that putting Boopsie to sleep was probably one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

On a small positive note, though, I can't think of a better way to go -- surrounded by loved ones, being held and stroked, while painlessly falling asleep.

She didn't suffer (we don't think); she was losing her dignity, but wasn't in pain (we don't think); and it was over very quickly.

One of the things that makes this so difficult is that she was so energetic just last week.

Last Sunday, she tried to make a break for the front door (to the outside) and over the past month she'd shown far more curiousity about the world outside our apartment than I can remember in a long time. [I'm not talking about staring out the windows, but wandering about in the downstairs space -- places that used to terrify her so intensely I sometimes thought she was agoraphobic.]

This past week, we kept finding her on the kitchen counters. She's always known that she wasn't allowed on the counters, and rarely went up there before (only when they held particularly tempting food), but this week she kept climbing up there... just to explore.

We weren't blind to the signs of her age. She'd been moving slower for months, and always sat or lay down a bit gingerly -- most likely, arthritis in her joints.

I think her depth perception was going. When starting to drink, she'd often stick her face full into the stream of water, as if to find it, before pulling back to a proper distance and lapping it up. Her last week, her muzzle was constantly dripping wet, and I often noticed a bit of food stuck to the top of her nose.

Her eyes were rheumier than they used to be, and as the week progressed, she made less effort to keep herself clean.

But even if she was spending more time asleep, she was still alert and interested in the world around her.

Friday, we were seeing signs the end was near.

Every so often she'd just stop while walking, sink down whereever she happened to be, and rest for a few minutes. It didn't look terribly comfortable -- oftentimes her head was straight down, nose-to-the-floor.

But then she'd stand back up and resume whatever it was she was doing. But even with those constraints, she was still interested in exploring her environment and didn't seem ready to go.

Sunday morning, we knew it was time.

I only saw her walk once, just as we woke up. Her legs were so shaky they'd barely hold her.

After that, she just kind of inched along on the floor, not even lifting herself up.

She didn't appear to be in pain -- just bone-weary tired.

And, well, one doesn't lie face-down in a dust bunny if one can at all help it.

We called J, who'd catsit for Boopsie numerous times, including several months after our housefire when we were living out of hotels, and told her to come over if she wanted to say her goodbyes. We also woke Ben, our tenant and one of Ian's best friends, to say the same thing.

Eventually, we wrapped her in a towel (she'd soiled herself sometime in the night and smelled a bit ripe) and I held her while J drove us to the vet. Thank Gd for J, because neither Ian nor I were really in a condition to drive. Her assistance at the vets was equally invaluable.

We've asked for Boopsie's remains to be cremated and returned to us.

A long time ago, I had the idea of getting a birdbath or bird feeder and putting her remains in the base. She always loved watching the pigeons and squirrels, and what better resting spot than one where she'd (metaphorically, at least) always be surrounded by one of her favorite pursuits.

But for now, I'm leaning towards getting a window basket for her ashes, where we can see her, and near one of her favorite destinations (the spider plants).

For those who've asked if we're going to get another cat...

Eventually, but not immediately.

Right now, the only kitten I want is Boopsie, and getting a new kitten with those expectations will only lead to disappointment. It'd be unfair to us and to the kitten.

Maybe in three or four months we'll be ready, but I'm not considering it until then.

[Ian says he's not planning on getting another cat, but expects another cat will find us eventually, just as Boopsie found me.]

I'm so glad Ian talked me into going to NYC for the day.

It was a satisfyingly Shakespearean adventure:

• We rode the Lucky Star Bus ["By the luckiest stars in heaven" — All's Well That Ends Well]
• We got lunch at a delightful little establishment in Chinatown called (Mistress?) Quickly
• And then we caught Cymbeline

I do intend to write a review of the production -- we may have caught its final day in NYC, but it's on an international tour and still has stops in Reykjavik, London, Moscow and Madrid.

But given this morning's tragedy, I'm not sure I'm up to writing my review just yet.

It's going to be today. Ian and I are so not holding together.

Recently, I found a Usenet post I made to rec.pets.cats on June 26 1992 titled "Boopsie's birthday":

Okay, so it's really not her birthday; I don't know when she was born. But one year ago yesterday, Lady Bubastis Underfoot adopted me, and I don't know who better to share this with.

I had a job interview the next day and was walking to the library to do some research. I saw a little boy (3 yrs old??) standing on the sidewalk screaming (looked like the Home Alone kid's pose) at a little grey and white kitten. The kitten was too terrified at the large yelling thing to move, so I politely extricated her and the kid got away. I pet the cat (I often play with neighborhood cats, whatever the neighborhood) and went on my way. A block away, I noticed I was being tailed. I cuddled her a bit more and continued on my way. She followed. After two blocks, I reached a busy intersection with the cat still at my feet. I turned around and walked deliberately back home. She followed. I rang the doorbell for my housemate, smiled and said "Guess what followed me home. Can I keep it?" He called his mother for advice, and we did. Honestly I hadn't quite intended to keep her. I was just thinking of the can of tuna we hadn't touched in quite a while.

But, keep her we did. She's a little pain in the a** much of the time, but she's sooooo cute, I couldn't live without her now. I feel bad that she's alone so much of the time, but pets aren't allowed in the building. I might be able to explain Boop (tell the truth--she followed me home) but two cats I can't. Incidentally, despite the no-pets clause (and I know there are at least two other cats in the building) I chose this apartment because I knew how good she'd look in it. Boopsie has a dark grey top and a white belly & feet. The kitchen has grey walls, black cabinets and a marble tile floor. I was right--the colors complement her perfectly.

I've lost a lot of sleep over the last year. I don't know what happened at 4am on the Waltham streets, but she was always up and about at that hour. She went into heat one week after we got her, and I couldn't afford to spay her until the end of August. [and then she had some serious complications, poor babe.] But she's incredibly affectionate when she wants to be. She's always at the door when I come home, and on catching my attention, she flops onto her back and bares her white belly for me to rub. She's a bit hyperactive, zooming around the apartment (never get window blinds) and rather brainless at times, and she chews on paper (I'm a rather sloppy packrat comic & book collector) but I love the little shit just the same. She's adorable. And she's got the most beautiful golden eyes.

I do so love her. I wish my descriptions could do her justice.

I know you'll understand.

One of my few regrets is that I still don't feel I have enough good photos of her. I wish I could capture the mixture of pink and black skin on her paws, the little black spot on the roof of her mouth, her multicolored eyes, the exact patterning of her fur...

Damn, I'm crying already.

This is going to be hard.

To put this in perspective, I graduated college in May 1991. I didn't start working at Lotus until September '91. I didn't even meet Ian in September 1992; we started dating in 1994 and he moved in spring of 1995 -- by which time I was living in a different apartment from the one described in that post.

So when you come right down to it, Boopsie has been the one constant in my post-college life.

But I think it's very clear that today is Boopsie's last day.

The way her condition's declined -- the way she's hobbling around -- the only decent thing we can do is put her to sleep today within the next twenty-four hours or so.

[Our vet isn't open today, so we either go someplace else today or wait until tomorrow morning. We've been together for nearly sixteen years; I *will* be with her at the end, even if it means taking time off work. She's worth it.]