pangur from pangur and grim and mr j from mister j are two ends of some sort of spectrum of catness. mister j is just an ordinary guy with a blog, probably has a pretty mundane office job. even if youve never seen him, youve probably unintentionally imagined him once or twice thinking about cats because he fits the bill nicely. an upstanding but rather ordinary gentleman, rather like the international prototype kilogram if the bureau of weights and measures had any desire to catalogue what a cat is. pangur reminds me of the surface of mars. strange and beautiful in a way that’s not very easy to grasp. certainly suggestive of catlike qualities in her own way, but i struggle to place quite which ones. i think its her longness. every cat on earth can be placed somewhere between the two.
id like to play a game. on social media, you posted that youd “rather die than smoke loud before noon.” before you is a gram of my heaviest couchlock shit - fail to smoke a bowl of it before the clock strikes 12, and the device strapped to your chest will drive a spike through each of your lungs. cough and ill be a total dick about it the rest of the sesh
okay but this seems easy as hell? no matter how high youd get, you could easily SMOKE a bowl. you might have the worst high of your life and have an hour long panic attack or whatever, but physically it wouldnt be hard to smoke a bowl. you’d definitely cough and definitely get made fun of by jigsaw but that seems fair compared to railroad spikes to the lungs.
“What were astronauts like when they first returned from outer space? Nurse Dee O'Hara: ‘They have something, a sort of wild look, I would say, as if they had fallen in love with a mystery up there, sort of as if they haven’t got their feet back on the ground, as if they regret having come back to us… a rage at having come back to earth. As if up there they’re not only freed from weight, from the force of gravity, but from desires, affections, passions, ambitions, from the body. Did you know that for months John [Glenn] and Wally [Schirra] and Scott [Carpenter] went around looking at the sky? You could speak to them and they didn’t answer, you could touch them on the shoulder and they didn’t notice; their only contact with the world was a dazed, absent, happy smile. They smiled at everything and everybody, and they were always tripping over things. They kept tripping over things because they never had their eyes on the ground.’”
— Craig Nelson, Rocket Men: The Epic Story of the First Men on the Moon (via m-l-rio)
