Tosh Berman's Blog, page 220

TamTam Books: "The Death Instinct" by Jacques Mesrine

The Death InstinctPublished by TamTam Books
By Jacques Mesrine. Introduction by Robert Greene. Translation by Robert Greene, Catherine Texier.France's Public Enemy Number One from the late 1960s to the end of the 1970s--when he was killed by police in a sensational traffic shootout--Jacques Mesrine (1936–1979) is the best-known criminal in French history. Mesrine was notorious both for his violent exploits and for the media attention he attracted, and he remains very much a public media figure in France and Europe. In 2008 there were two feature-length films based on his life, one of them starring Vincent Cassel in the lead role. Mesrine wrote The Death Instinctwhile serving time in the high-security prison La Santé; the manuscript was smuggled out of the prison and was later published by Guy Debord's publisher Gérard Lebovici (who briefly adopted Mesrine's daughter, Sabrina, before being assassinated, a few years after Mesrine). The Death Instinct deals with the early years of Mesrine's criminal life, including a horrifically graphic description of a murder he committed early on in his career and a highly detailed account of the workings of the French criminal underworld--making this book perhaps one of the most intriguing and detailed anthropological studies of a criminal culture ever written.

PUBLISHER
TAMTAM BOOKSBOOK FORMAT
PAPERBACK, 6.75 X 9 IN. / 325 PGS.PUBLISHING STATUS
PUB DATE 11/30/2014
FORTHCOMINGDISTRIBUTION
D.A.P. EXCLUSIVE
CATALOG: FALL 2014 P. 77   PRODUCT DETAILS
ISBN 9780966234688 TRADE
LIST PRICE: $16.95 CDN $16.95

TamTam Books: Lun*na Menoh's "A Ring Around The Collar"

Lun*na Menoh: A Ring Around The CollarPublished by TamTam Books
Introduction by Leslie Dick.For 14 years, Los Angeles–based artist, fashion designer and musician Lun*na Menoh has been exploring the many unexpected possibilities of the dirty shirt collar, producing paintings, sculptures, music, DVDs, performance art and fashion shows inspired by this lowly, ubiquitous aspect of clothing. The collar is a fashion boundary--the dividing line between what is hidden by clothing and the body that emerges from the cloth--and the stains commonly found there often confound sartorial panache, a fact which Menoh takes as the mischievous starting point for her work. Lun*na Menoh: A Ring Around the Collardocuments the paintings included in this series, as well as Menoh’s performance art and fashion shows. Included with this book is a flexi-disc with two songs by the artist’s band, Les Sewing Sisters, and an introduction by acclaimed author Leslie Dick.
PUBLISHER
TAMTAM BOOKSBOOK FORMAT
HARDCOVER, 8.5 X 11 IN. / 48 PGS / 40 COLOR / FLEXI DISC.PUBLISHING STATUS
PUB DATE 11/30/2014
FORTHCOMINGDISTRIBUTION
D.A.P. EXCLUSIVE
CATALOG: FALL 2014 P. 138   PRODUCT DETAILS
ISBN 9780985272418 TRADE
LIST PRICE: $59.95 CDN $59.95

July 26, 2014

July 26, 2016

Ever since I was a child, I was drawn into the nighttime world, which the Blake Edwards’ show “Peter Gunn” expressed my need for shadows and cool jazz.    As a teenager, I imagine my life as Gunn, where I had a beautiful mid-century apartment, with a gorgeous fuckable girlfriend who seems to visit him in the middle of the night.  Gunn seems to be only active in the night, where he frequents a jazz nightclub called “Mothers” in a city that is not defined, but it appears to be a dock town.  The surroundings strike me as being unnatural, even fake-like, which made me love the TV series even more.  Throughout my life I tried to find a jazz club like “Mothers, ” but realized that’s impossible, because here, the imagination rules, and I follow the rules of dream logic than the waking man’s reality.



I love the idea of a contained environment, for instance the Korova Milk Bar, where one goes to get loaded on milk laced with drugs, where one can drink the milk with knives in it.  It will sharpen you up.  I went there to take mescaline, and as I sat on a couch that resembled a woman’s ass-cheeks and back, I let my mind wander into a shapeless world, and just waiting for my ego to break down. That, will never happen. Nevertheless I left Korova and went to the Owl Drug store on Beverly and La Cienega to look at the displays of shampoo, hair creams, combs, and all sorts of beauty products.  I couldn’t believe my eyes, and I felt I was really seeing these objects in a new ‘enlightened’ light.  “If the doors of perception were cleansed everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.  For man has closed himself up.  Till he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern.” The essence of moving among the buildings in the night, clearly I was looking for happiness, but one knows that “happiness would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness.”



Around 3:30 in the morning I arrived at my home, which over time, I tried to design it as Peter Gunn’s apartment, but I neither have the money or the shopping skill to make this work.  Yet, my attempt to reproduce what I saw on television, it became a new interior.  Not even influenced by, but more of a tribute that only I can see.  I put on the song “Sonny” on the turntable which was written and performed by Bobby Hebb, but I much prefer the Manfred Mann instrumental version.  Hebb wrote it as a reaction to the John F. Kennedy assassination but also to his brother who was killed a few days after the Kennedy death.  He was inspired to write something that was ‘light’ and uplifting when his world (and others) went to hell.  I admire the beauty of someone changing their perception of the world, because if there is going to be a real change, one needs to start with themselves.   Or, we flow with the crowd, but that I don’t recommend whatsoever.

July 25, 2014

July 25, 2014
Throughout my early career as an illustrator for various companies like Colgate, Fisk Tires, and numerous publications, I resolved to quit doing commercial work, and devote the rest of my time doing paintings.   I would hire young women who I have met through various social circles to be my models.  Occasionally I would use myself as a model, because I have been informed that I’m quite beautiful in my own fashion.  Nevertheless I have used various models on a regular basis for some years now.    In my work, I have a definite idea of the perfect landscape, and the coloring of that world is extremely important to me.  For my paintings, I would build landscape models on a large table, and use different lighting effects to capture the right combination of the mountains, the lake, and if there are any actual structures, I would also make an exact replica of that building.  Mostly my work is neoclassical, and the nude bodies that are in my work (including yours truly) are usually androgynous, but placed in these fantastical settings. 


Susan Lewin worked for me not only as a model, but also as my assistant. There is the cliché about the artist and his model, and I have to say in this case, it is perfectly true.  For about five years, I painted her in various positions of her, but mostly when she’s in the nude.  When I used myself as a nude model, I have her photographed me so I can distance myself so I can be added to the painting.   The distance between us became less and less, as I demanded her attention as her employer.  For years now, I would pay her in cash on a weekly basis, usually on Fridays, by placing the money on the side table by the entrance of my studio.  There is not anything else on this table except for the money.  Over time, this table has become almost an erotic object between me and her.  Even when I have other models here, I paid them differently, usually by check.  A check is very non-personal, but cash has an intimate effect, and when she leaves for the day, and picks it up before she exits, it gives me an erotic jolt. 



I have determined that I have to redefine our relationship where I’m basically the leader, and she’s the follower.   What I would do is bring up the idea that the outside world of my studio is a hostile environment, and what I do here is paint beautiful landscapes, and therefore not only are we making our own paradise here, but also supplying the outside world a place of imagination where they can escape to.  The thing is, I want to be able to focus on my work, but I want her to do the same, on my work of course.  There is still a nagging fear that she will leave me for another occupation or a need to share her life with someone else.  I never ask her what she does when she is not working with me, nor do I know about her relationships with other people. For the eight-hours per day that she is with me, she is mine and that is all I care about.  Over time, I realized that my idealized world is not only in the imagination, but is actually based on our relationship.  What looks decorative in my paintings is actually the way I want the world to be, and therefore, I rarely participate in the outside world.  There is a moment, usually before she leaves, that we look at the work that was done that day, and with only the music by Johnny Hodges in the background, I almost want to tell her that I love her, but that can never compare or compete with a finished work of art. 

July 24, 2014

July 24, 2014

Hopefully by the end of December 31, 2014, I will write myself out.  By January 1, 2015, I’ll be empty.   The question is can I fill this emptiness with something?   Or better yet, just stay empty?  Being empty can’t be that bad right?  On my first trip to Japan, I found this fantastic book by Junichirō Tanizaki called “In Praise of Shadows” which is about Japanese aesthetic in how one looks at food, architecture and even a woman in a house of prostitution.  The underlining theme of the book is change, and also the influence of the West on Japanese traditional aesthetic.  Here I’m not talking about the tea ceremony, but more about the lighting of the rooms, and how food looks in such a lighting.  Tanizaki writes about the luring beauty of a woman in darkness or by candle light. The reader gets the impression that one is losing an aesthetic over time. Which I consider to be very much true even here in the West.  One thing I noticed in Tokyo and other places is that people have a tendency to eat in bright lights now. It is like darkness is not permitted in a modern home or restaurant.  Personally I like to eat with a woman almost In darkness. I like the lighting at dusk and just seeing the traces of my dinner companion and food… just barely.



The world is ugly.  It is not surprising that I’m attracted to characters like Sherlock Holmes, who lives in a world of their making, but often goes into the brighter world due to financial reasons, or perhaps a curiosity in seeing just how bad things are.  If I can live in Holmes flat on Baker Street, that would be the perfect environment for me.  I imagine his apartment is on the dark side, with very little lighting, maybe just a tiny area to use for reading.  Not surprising, my house is dark in the nighttime, because I don’t have reading lamps or even lighting to see one room to the other.  In the daytime, it is quite bright, but I let the night take over the house’s lighting system, where the brightness turns into darkness.  I rarely read in the evening owing to the natural cycle of the sun going down, and the moon arising.


To embrace oneself in a womb of darkness, and not using one’s sight, but to depend on sounds that echo through room to room, is quite a nice aesthetic, where I occasionally play a recording by Mick Karn, whose fretless bass playing conveys a sense of one slipping into the blackness that is clearly my soul.   Over time, I realize that my writing is in a manner, the ability to edit out things in my life, then adding more that just becomes inventory after awhile.  Is it enough, just to focus on the blankness of an empty page, and perhaps leaving that space vacant.  To disappear between the shadows, and noticing the various shades of blackness or darkness that one confronts on a regular basis, is not depressing, but more of an enlightenment.



Zelda Fitzgerald has always been fascinating to me, because she seems to be not a noun, but a verb.  I think of her as pure light, that is avoiding the darkness.  If she stands still, then the darkness takes over.  The 8-hour ballet lessons, her manic need for attention, but in a sense, she had a genius for living.  The natural instinct which is always at war with the logic, is a human trait to admire.  Often I feel my back is to the wall, but due to my natural ability to see the many shades of blackness that is in front of me, I move.  And I move fairly well.

July 23, 2014

July 23, 2014

I may not really remember the plot of a book, but I always remember the character as well as where I read the book.   Raymond Chandler’s “Farewell My Lovely” was read in Taos New Mexico sometime in 1974.  Which means I was somewhere between the age of 19 and 20.  I remember reading this book because it was the book I took for this trip to Dennis Hopper’s ranch in Taos, for a family vacation.  At the time, Dennis wasn’t around, I think he was on location making a film, but what I do remember was the hostility between Dennis’ camp and the citizens of Taos.  At the time, it felt like to me that I was placed on the border of the West Bank and Israel.  I can’t remember their names, or the main host or person taking care of Dennis’ home, but what I do clearly remember is our first night in Taos, and trying to locate a restaurant for our first dinner in Taos with the Dennis camp.  It seemed when we went into a restaurant, it became closed.  It was on the fourth try that we found a place that would serve us.  I think it was Fonda hotel that served us dinner that night.  After dinner, we all got in a van and drove around the town.  The citizens of Taos who were on the street sort of gave a dirty look to the van whenever we passed them.   We even went past the neighborhood movie theater, which ironically enough belonged to Dennis.  It seems like he booked Bunuel films for the theater.   What was really noticeable was the gunshots and holes throughout the building, including the lighted marquee.  Dennis' friends didn't seem to notice or cared about this fact, but I thought for sure this couldn't be a good sign.



When we got to the house later that night, and prepare for sleeping, I became aware that everyone living there was armed.  It seemed that there have been gunshots towards the house over the last few months, and luckly no one was hurt, but the feeling was that there was consistent danger of someone coming into the household and killing everyone.  At least that was my thought as I tried to enter a world of sleep that night.   A few days before I left for Taos, I purchased a used copy of "Farewell My Lovely" from a used bookstore in Santa Monica.   It was a cool mass market paper back from the UK and according to the copyright page it was published sometime in the late 1950s.  The edition and author were perfect for the car trip as well as something to read at the Hopper compound.  Well, that was the first thought, the truth is I held on to that book as something that may either save me from being shot to death, or better yet, an escape route from this hellish family vacation.



Dennis’ home used to be owned by Mabel Dodge, who was a wealthy patron of the arts, and eventually moved to Taos to start an arts colony.  She died in 1962, at her home.   One of her famous guests was D.H. Lawrence, and they had a fraught relationship.  She wrote a memoir about her years with Lawrence called “Loreno in Taos.” So one could feel the vibrations of the house but it was in total conflict with the outside world.  My mother mentioned that she saw an old woman standing by the drive-way one day while we left to pick up breakfast.  She later recognizes her as Mabel Dodge, due to a photograph of her that was in the household.  There is something very spiritual about the Taos landscape that I personally find terrifying.



I picked up one other book that I found in the Hopper residence, and that was "The Rosicrucian Cosmo-Conception" by the Christian occultist, astrologer and mystic, Max Heindel.  I was drawn to this book because I found it in my bedroom, and it was obviously ancient.  When I was looking at the copyright page, it was dated 1909.   I read bits and piece of it, but it wasn’t Raymond Chandler, that’s for sure.  The most interesting part of the book is when he wrote about the “invisible plans, ” which there are many.  There is our life on this planet (i.e. Taos) and then there're different forms of consciousness that transcends the known physical universe. Nevertheless it did seem to me at the time to be the perfect book to have in Taos.  I gained the impression that I was living among a cult or worst yet, several cults.  The only place that I felt safe was the Fonda Hotel, just because it appears to attract people from outside the state and they seemed (to me) perfectly normal.



I counted the moments and seconds till we left the area.  I never felt more secure and alive when we headed back towards Los Angeles, a city of dreams, and a city that Max Heindel spent a great deal of time as well.

July 22, 2014

July 22, 2014

I couldn’t sleep last night so I just got dressed and went to my diner on Greenwich Avenue, to have a cup of herbal tea. In case, I can go back to sleep later.  I was worried by yesterday’s meeting I had with Doctor Menninger, my psychiatrist for the past three years.  I suffer from depression that just doesn’t stop.  In the middle of the night, while I’m in bed, I often started crying for no reason, at least in my mind I can’t find the source of this misery.  He has given me a prescription and I have been taking it on a strict basis, but still, I can’t remove the darkness that seems to be tattooed on my brain.  Being a rather vain man, people, especially girls, have commented that I have developed bags under my eyes, which are a pretty new visual for me.  The utensils at this diner are very shiny, and I can see my reflection on the back of the spoon, and the first thing I notice are the bags.   My face is very pale, and the darkness under my eyes disturbs me.  Doctor Menninger, thinks I should think of other things besides yours truly.



The situation is I only know myself, and I don’t know that much about anything else. When I feel anything, emotionally speaking, it is always a bad feeling.  If I had one philosopher or writer that I followed, it’s Amy Vanderbilt.  Her “Complete Book of Etiquette” is as close to the Bible for me as possible.  In the book, I found this quote that rings true to me: “Good manners have much to do with the emotions.  To make them ring true, one must feel them, not merely exhibit them.” That and “do not speak of repulsive matters at the table” pretty much rules my thoughts on how one should interact with the world today.   The problem with me is how far can I go with my emotions in a public space?  My awkwardness just gets in the way, when I wish to express myself in a certain fashion, and usually I have to re-think how I should say or convey my feelings, so it won’t disturb or put people off.



When I want to communicate, that is the time or moment when I fail to do so.  Which of course, triggers off my anxiety which leads to the crippling depression.   The Vanderbilt book is an excellent guide for me to follow and also I can obtain information in the book in bite-size portions. Nonetheless, sometimes reading is very difficult, and I tend to read words off a computer or page, and I tend to wander into some abstract zone, where I find myself trapped with (again) the anxiety that seems to rule my conscience.   Going to the cinema helps me in that I don’t have to think, it is just sitting there in front of a large screen and focusing on the images, and if I want, I can hear and digest the words coming from the actor’s words. “Taxi Driver” is a film that I have seen at least 25 times.  I of course have the DVD, but when it originally came out in 1976, I would sit in a theater and watch that film over and over again.  The first viewing I wasn’t practically paying any attention to it, the images off the screen were just background noise, so I can sit in the darkness and think or let my mind wander.   Over time, and repeated screenings I started to pick up the anxiety of the main character, and that, oddly enough, helped me through the day.



The only other film besides “Taxi Driver” that had a huge effect on me was the “The Invisible Man” starring Claude Rains, directed by James Whale, and even the great Preston Struges had a hand in writing the script.  I think what appealed to me was Rains’ interpretation of the invisible man and how one can be there, but not there.  In other words, I often felt invisible to my peers, or in a crowd, and it’s moments like these, where I realize it doesn’t matter if I’m here or not.    I often wonder if I should just enter the world, and totally subject myself to a cause or even a position in life, but the truth in the manner, is that I wouldn’t be in it for the purpose of that cause, but more to fill myself with a duty to prove that I’m alive and somehow I can make a difference out there.  Then again, perhaps it is appropriate enough that I sit here and look at my reflection off the back of a spoon.

July 21, 2014

July 21, 2014

To be honest, I’m very much influenced by the misery that is in the world.  For what I do, I need despair on a political and criminal level.  The horror of the bombings in Gaza as well as the commercial flight being shot down over Ukraine is fuel for my writing.  Without it, I do not have a thing to write about.   At this level, it becomes pornography.  I have seen so many images of death, that it has become meaningless to me.   As an artist I rather see a representation of death, then an actual obliteration of a human being, animal and architecture.  I imagine being a journalist in a war or disaster area, and telling the story through one’s eyes, has to be a difficult skill.  There is a need to distance oneself from what they are seeing to get a clear picture with respect to what that they’re reporting on.   Data facts are significant as well.  One just has to note the correct number of deaths, and buildings destroyed.  If one makes a mistake, it can throw off your whole story.



Often the problem is that we are looking at that singular tree, instead of the massive volume of forest around that tree.  This same problem happens when one is writing or doing art as well.  It is almost impossible to stay neutral when the world in front of you is being destroyed or changed radically.  Also the feeling of things not changing but just repeating itself over and over again, is a frustration in motion.  It’s like being trapped in a television show, where you pretty much know what is going to happen at the end of the episode. Yet, we keep watching it because the format gives one some sort of comfort that there is an order out there that will make everything to reach its natural conclusion.  The thing is, I don’t believe there is an order in this world.  I think every culture has a bit of self-destruction tendencies because it is somewhat embedded in our DNA.   This I thinks is what causes strife, horror, or in other words, Pandora’s Box.



I have a fear of doing something that will make things worst.  I think a lot of people feel that way. Yet there are a large percentage of people who jump in to something and ask questions later.  The impulse to jump into the fire is actually sexy, especially if one is doing it to feel more vibrant or even out of curiosity.  So when you do get that beautiful box or container and you know you shouldn’t open it, but alas, you do.  Well, that's human nature.  Between you and me, I never cared for human nature that much.



Acts of violence are never a good solution to a problem.  I understand the violent act, it can be satisfying to step over that line that separates insanity and sanity, but the circumstances of such an act can or more likely cause severely detrimental and far-reaching consequences.  I refrain from feeling regret, so therefore I pretty much ignore all my impulses in committing any acts of violence.  But on the other hand I don’t mind using violence in a narrative that I am writing or have or will have used in my work.   I like realism, but only in the context that it is made in a studio or on the page.  The French had a loose film movement called “poetic realism” where one recreates realism in a stylized fashion, and usually filmed in a film studio.  This, serves my sense of aesthetic and therefore I want to take the horrors that are out there, and re-arrange them to suit my purpose, either for narration sake or an aesthetic image.  As the world crumbles, I believe “art for art’s sake” becomes more important to me.

July 20, 2014

July 20, 2014

Happy Sunday Dear sirs and madams.  As you can gather by now, I’m a man who likes to surround himself with objects, books, music and videos or DVDs.  I really don’t have an interest in the outside world, because it tends to disappoint me on a regular basis.  Even going to my local market is an ordeal where I think myself as sleepwalking down the aisles.  On the other hand I have a great need for specific images and I don’t need a whole narrative behind those images.  I guess what I’m looking for is an image that represents yours truly.  If I can notice the likeness on everyday objects, better yet.


Mrs. Emma Peel never seemed like a realistic person to me.  One of the reasons why I love her so much is that she basically represents a character that doesn’t exist.  I like to acknowledge the fictional aspect of a character and I never mistake or confuse what is the real and the unreal.  A woman walking inside my TV set with a full leather outfit got my interest right away.  On the other hand I never thought of her as being sexy, but beautiful yes.  Her relationship with John Steed plays with the idea that a relationship may have taken place, but I had the impression that it was more of a deep friendship than anything else.  The fact that she is named “Mrs. Peel” suggests that her heart belongs to another man, even though he was dead, it seems that relationship will never fade or change.  I love the beauty of that consistency, and rarely that happens in ‘real’ life.   Also time-to-time she is making sculptures in her home, when Steed pops in for a drink, or more likely a drink with a future adventure in mind.  Mrs. Peel in many ways is not only a visual artist, but also lives her life as an art piece.



One wonders if Mrs. Peel would be invited to Judy Chicago’s installation art work “Dinner Party?” An installation that is endlessly fascinating by the way.  The piece includes figures like Sacajawea, Virginia Woolf, Emily Dickinson, Sappho, Ishtar, Petronilla de Meath, and so forth.  All females of course, but what is interesting is to meditate on the various individuals and how they link to one another.  A party can come upon us in a very clumsy manner, but a dinner party, where one is expected to sit down formally at a table, is a mixture of social skills with insight into the invited guests.  One gets the impression that Chicago invited these “guests” with profound thought.  Also of great interest is Chicago’s interest in “macho arts” such as auto body work, boat building and pyrotechnics. I can imagine Mrs. Peel sharing the same interests.




Along with Judy Chicago, I also admire the works of Lászió Moholy-Nagy and Nam June Paik, due to the fact that they both have a belief in the integration of technology and industry.   Perhaps June Paik’s take on technology and industry is more human-like and individualistic.  He has been quoted as saying “Skin has become inadequate in interfacing with reality. Technology has become the body's new membrane of existence."  This I think is very true with respect how the world now operates.  Drones has taken over the role of physical bodies in war, and even now, death seems more conceptual than reality.   Which aesthetically, makes perfect sense to me.  Moholy-Nagy made a sculpture that had moving parts that reflected light projecting on nearby surfaces.  This kinetic sculpture deals more with the actual relationship between technology and art, but it's interesting when you compare it with something subjective like Judy Chicago and June Paik’s art and aesthetic.

My feeling of alienation in this world tends to overwhelm me, but alas, through art, and especially the artists above, has shown me another world that I can be focused on. It is not the issue of being positive or negative, but the way the arts have described or frame the world in a certain light that makes it bearable for me to go on.   One of my favorite films is “Vengeance Is Mine, by Shohei Imamura.  It’s based on a true story of the serial killer and con-artist Akira Nishiguchi.  The character is interesting because he drifts into people’s lives, and it seems almost he has no purpose or thought, but lives his life in a series of criminal activities.  The impulse of an artist is to always create than destroy.  Otherwise there is a similar pattern in one’s life with a criminal, but the standards that we set ourselves up with, should be high, ethical as possible, and never fear of the thought of failure.  As a man, I usually look up to Mrs. Peel as an inspiration for my own life.

July 19, 2014

July 19, 2014

Nothing works here.  As a card carrying existentialist I can understand changes in one’s life, but this is ridiculous.  Ever since the bombings it has been difficult for me to find kitty food for my Siamese mixed with a Persian.  She usually likes meow mix, but lately due to the explosions and the sense of dread around the area, she hasn’t been eating properly.   I used to get wet and dry food, but now it is very difficult to find any wet cat food in the market.  Usually I would try to get it from Egypt, but even that is drying (no pun intended) up.  Her favorite was tender favorites® with real salmon in sauce, but now, if I can find it, she will eat Tender Centers Salmon & White Meat Chicken Flavor, but that as well, is not that easy to find.  In fact, even having water for my cat is difficult.  I’ve been hearing rumors that the sewerage system either is or was placed on the verge of collapse, that groundwater contamination is in the enclave.



I invested in owning a bird’s cage, because I had birds as well, but under these conditions it’s very hard to keep them alive.  Nevertheless the bird cage is suitable for me to put my kitty inside, when I have to continue to move around, in case of bombings or attacks.  My cat’s full name is Felix the Cat, but of course I call her Felix.  I was inspired to call her Felix because of the cartoon series. Over time, or ever since I was a child, I would lose a lot of property, and I was intrigued by Felix, because of his “Magic Bag of Tricks” that could assume an infinite variety of shapes and forms at Felix’s request.  I would imagine if I had to leave my home right away, all I need would be the magic bag.   I think Felix (the cartoon character) influenced my interest in having a cat.   Also to open up a pet store here in the Gaza Strip.

It’s a tricky business, because let’s face it, what I offer at the store is a luxury item, and without political or financial stability, people are not thinking of getting a bird or a cat.  I have approached some parents, especially mothers that a child can find great comfort in owning and taking good care of a cat.  Birds are good as well, but their survival rate in the current situation is not all that good.  So, my main inventory is cats, but it is a very difficult business.   Also with the lack of pet food in general, I'm feeling guilty obsessing over my cat over the other cats in the inventory.

Sometimes I feel like I should let all my cats free, because I don’t think I can stomach the idea that my structure can be bombed and lose all my animals in such a fashion.  If somehow they disappear on one night, at least I can have the fantasy that they are somewhere in the area surviving like the cunning beasts that I know them to be.  My Felix has a good personality.   One can hope that she will use her bag of tricks, and make a flying carpet, so both of us can float over the landscape and marvel a world that is down there, and me and Felix are not part of that world.