kafka the dog

i don't usually do this but....

2010-03-09T16:53:00.000-07:00

when i'm home alone and the house is very quiet i sneak around and put on music. lately the only thing i've been listening to is the crystal stilts. it feels like they are singing directly to this dog. here are some lyrics to one of my favs:

been building my life out of distorted fragments
absorbing light through a prismatic tomb
my mind imbibes the city's madness
projecting worlds on the walls of this magic room

this magic room
my prismatic tomb
this prismatic room
my magic tomb
when I conjure memories
they feel like someone else's
mere unconscious currency
i adhere to my reflections

been building my life out of distorted fragments
absorbing light through a kaleidoscopic tomb
my mind imbibes the city's madness
projecting worlds on the walls of this cosmic room

if only i could write like that.....

rude pundit

2010-03-03T15:45:00.000-07:00

the rude pundit:

he talks about dogs today. he is so right on. he is my two legged hero.

they are all dogs

2010-02-12T09:14:00.001-07:00

the other morning i was in need of some rawhide for the mind. sometimes just chewing on the plastic nylabone isn't enough. most of the time it does just fine. but, i think it was last wednesday, i was in need of something more. the chewing wasn't doing the trick. so as usual once the big ones left, i opened up the cage and purused the book shelf. i'm not going to bore you with the details of what i read, suffice it to say that i picked up the classics. none of that crappy post modern, elitist garbage full of grammatical acrobatics that the big one likes to read. i wanted a story. i wanted a well written story. i wanted narrative that i could sink my teeth into. i didn't want to think about how the narrative was conveyed. i didn't want the words on the page to call attention to themselves. i wanted the words to be invisible. i wanted the pages to be non-existent. i just wanted to inhale. i wanted to fill my lungs and nourish my self with the hueristic oxygen of a well told story.

so i did. i didn't read any book from start to finish. i skimmed multiple books, by multiple authors. i breathed deeply. i could feel life returning. i was the characters and the characters were me.
so since last wednesday i've been chewing on all that i read. and of course, despite my intentions and desires, i am a post modern dog. the stories disappeared from my mind. what was left in their place was the mode of narrative delivery, in marxist terms, the means of production. i kept thinking about the sentences. i kept thinking about the paragraphs. i think about the word choices of the authors. i think about their superior technique. i see how their supposedly invisible prose, is actually very deliberate and in your face.

i've been thinking about this a lot. i keep thinking about how their simplist sentiment or sentence has to describe perfectly the here and now, or at least the here and now of the diegesis. the author must notice/create the details of a world. he/she must constantly be in the present. much like a dog. i've writen before about how we, the dogs of the world, live here in the present. at least from a narrative perspective. the authors, the truly great ones, are all dogs. maybe not dogs in the real world. but they must be dogs in the world of their creation.

and in that very small way, i can safely say that i wish i was more of a dog and a little less human.

dream

2009-11-09T13:49:00.001-07:00

i had another dream in which everything was good. the world was right and everyone was happy. i awoke to find myself back in the nightmare of everyday existence.

i had a dream

2009-09-12T23:15:00.003-06:00

i had a dream last night. it wasn't a magnanimous, save humanity, teach a lesson, oh look how bright the future is going to be, dream. it was mundane. or i should say it was mundane if it had been the dream of a human. it wasn't. it was my fucked up dream. in the dream i was a human, but not just any human. i was john boy walton.

i know, what the fuck.

let me tell you a bit about the dream. because if you had had this dream you probably would have forgotten it already. but for me it was unique. i've never been a human in any of my dreams. usually my dreams are of long walks on the beach, of rolling in grass, of smelling another dogs ass. but in this one i was human. i had two legs, i had two arms, and i had a mole on my face.

now in this dream there was someone trying to kill me. he was a faceless enemy. actually he wasn't faceless, i just couldn't see it. in fact this is what makes the dream so interesting to this dog. the guy had a face, just like he had two feet. but i was lacking the autonomy of vision to look where i wanted to. i could only see what the dream maker (director, author, my subconcious, etc.) would let me see. i kept trying to look up at the face, but it wouldn't happen. my gaze was out of my control. is that what it is like to be human? do you have the ability to move at your will, but not see what it is that you need to see?

the other thing that was interesting to me was that in most of my dreams, as in my life, smell is the prevalent sense. in this dream sight was. even though it was an impotent sight. a sight that was out of my control. or at least out of the control of john boy.

freud tells us that each of the characters in our dreams are really us. and in the dream i was obviously john boy. i was wearing his clothes, running through his house, knowing exactly where to hide from the enemy. but if freud is to be believed the enemy was also me, kafka. so let me get this straight....i'm running from myself, because i'm trying to kill myself with a homemade gun type thingy. i know i'm being chased. i know i'm in danger, and yet i'm handicapped because my sense of smell isn't working, and my sight is out of my control. i'm a funny dog. and i'm not talking funny haha, i'm talking funny hoho.

i'm trying to think of anything that might have spurred on this dream. maybe the nightly visits of the bear on my porch. the smell of that thing wakes me up, and i immediately start to bark, and bark, and bark. much to the chagrin of the big ones. christ, i'm just trying to protect the household, they don't need to yell at me. "quiet, kafka" well fuck you. first of all i can't help myself. the bark just comes when i smell that big bear. second of all, there is a big bear on the porch. even if it wasn't automatic, i'd be barking and growling. that is my job. i'm the protector. i sound the alarm. that is who i am. that is almost all that i am. that is kafka. and yet the big one yells at me nightly about my bark.

ok, i think this might be the dream trigger. it always helps to write these things down. you should try it sometime.

shout out

2009-05-04T13:03:00.003-06:00

just wanted to give a belated thanks to skippy the bush kangaroo for giving me a shout out. this is the second time that i've been mentioned on his blog. everytime he does my visits go way up. so thanks mr. kangaroo. show him some love and go read his blog.

a lesson in cycles

2009-05-04T12:24:00.007-06:00

it was snowing this morning, as you can see from the picture of your's truly. "but it is may," you say. "yes it is," i say. but this is springtime in the rocky mountains, it rains, it snows, it hails, and it is mostly sunny. but today it is a mix of rain and snow.

"kafka, my canine buddy, why the weather report?" you ask. well, even though it is snowing it still is spring. the majority of the snow has melted and the grass is starting to turn green. flowers are pushing up through the fetid soil, and living in that brown muck are earth worms. earth worms, the spring time's best friend. aerating the soil, eating the shit and pooping out compost. love those guys. they are on the side of everything good in this world. so i was distressed to see the genocide right outside my driveway this morning.

"genocide," you exclaim. "yes," I answer in the affirmative. all the way down the street were the dead carcasses of earth worms. the creepy crawlers were rinsed from their homes in the grass on the edge of the road and laid to rest right on the concrete where they were vulnerable to the earthworm flattening bottom of human shoes and car tires. it was like walking through a nightmare.

everywhere i turned there were the flattened bodies of the soil's buddies. most were smushed. some were still alive. wriggling and struggling to get back to a soft ground where they could burrow, eat, and poop in peace. but the curb is too high for an earthworm to climb. a few lucky earthworms were saved by the little one. when he would find one still vital and moving, he would pick it up and throw it back onto the grass. just think how many generations of earthworms he saved with each toss. but one six year only makes a difference to individuals. in the big picture, his kind actions don't mean diddly.

i continued walking through the apocalyptic landscape, careful not to do any damage to a night crawler that might be in my path. i was depressed and distressed. where is the sense in all of this loss of life? how could any deity allow this holocaust? i was feeling especially down and godless. we dropped off the little one at his school bus stop. i was a little proud of his life saving gestures. but it wasn't enough.

we turned to walk home. the snow coming down in those late spring gigantic flakes. my black fur completely covered in white. the smell of death everywhere. i will never forget that smell. even now it is wedged deep into my consciousness.

we were almost home. walking up the hill, head down, to keep the snowflakes out of my eyes. i noticed some movement up ahead. i raised my head to see what was going on. there were maybe 10 robins hanging out beside the road. they were eating the carcasses of the worms. they were having a great day. this is what they live for. they were singing in the snow. bouncing up and down. swoop down into the road. pick up breakfast and then back to the safe tree. sing some more, and then repeat. the worm's nightmare is the robin's gift.

i still felt bad for the dead earthworms. but i also felt joy for the robin's easy meal. and happiness for all the young robins who were going to get a huge breakfast this morning.

nothing except for my snow covered fur is black and white.

a little sad

2009-04-12T12:14:00.004-06:00

i'm generally not sad. i'm generally angry. today i'm a little sad. the, full of life, young labradoodle from down the street is no longer. i'm just a dog, so i don't really understand the concepts of life and death. these are ideas that are so far advanced i have no way of putting my paws around these. i can't grasp what life is and i certainly can't feel death. but i can smell an absence. and there is something missing on my street. i smelled it when i went out yesterday for a walk. something vital was missing. i could almost feel it, but there is nothing to feel. how can you feel nothing? and the smell was one of a hole. the melange of my street was missing an ingredient. maybe that is a way to get a handle on this. we are all ingredients in the other's overall sense of the world. we make up a few molecules in the air that wafts through the dog down the street's nose. and that dog, while smelling our scent, adds his own to the mix. and now there is one less dog adding scent.
i don't want to go into the details. they aren't important. his family grieves. i grieve even though we didn't have much of a relationship. the occasional hump, but not much more. but his scent was everpresent in my nose, and it went away yesterday.
today i'm a little sad.

a distant memory

2009-03-07T11:17:00.004-07:00

The sun has been out and it is getting warmer, so memories of summer fill my head. now as you'll recall most of my memories are not in the form of narrative or language, most are just smells. but the event, that i'm about to tell you about, was so amazing that i not only remember the smells and the images, i remember this story. does this make me a bit human? i don't have the mental capacity to answer that. i'm sure kierkagaard the cat would have something to say about that. but me....too much for my half golden retriever brain.

so here is my story. in the summer here in vail we have a weekly farmer's market. i love the farmer's market. so many smells. all the fresh produce. all the prepared food. all the people dropping snow cones on the ground. it really is a heavenly event. i can't wait for the summer...except for the grass allergies....but that is another post.

so this one day the whole family is walking around the market. beautiful sunny day. probably 78 degrees farenheit. not a cloud in the sky. a stereotypical vail blue sky day. by the way we have 300 of those each year....envious? so anyway.....we are walking. the littlest one just finished his snow cone. of course most of the cherry flavoring is on his shirt and not in his stomach. but i don't mind because the smell is overwhelming. and if there is one thing i really like it is an overwhelming smell. so we continue walking.

before i have a chance to figure out what is going on, the littlest one is laying on the ground in the middle of the street. he is screaming like someone is attacking him. i'm trying to make myself scarce. i'm actually a little embarrased by this display of attention getting behavoir. i hate this kind of stuff. so the little one is kicking and screaming. i can make out that he is saying that he wants to go on the pony ride. the big ones have dread on their faces. i start pulling the leash, trying to leave the scene of the transgression. the biggest one pulls back on the leash and yells, "don't you start too kafka!" what the fuck? why am i getting yelled at for something i had nothing to do with? just figures. the innocent always suffer, right jesus?

so now here we are. i'm pulling the leash. the little one is screaming bloody murder. the female one is nowhere to be found. and the big male is yelling at me to stop pulling. then right before my eyes something incredible happens. something that you could only attribute to the drug addled mind of a mediocre writer. the big one begins to punch himself in the head. he yells, "stop pulling kafka." then bam, punch to his own face. he yells, "sasha, stop the drama." then bang, punch to his own eye. i'm mortally mortified. so of course i start pulling more, just to get out of this place. "i said stop pulling, can't you hear?" then ouch...upper cut to his own nose.

by this time a crowd is starting to gather. the little one is still carrying on. the big one is punching himself repeatedly in the face. in fact his nose starts to bleed at this point. i'm just trying to hide my head and get out of there. the little one notices the bloody nose on his father. this scares him but doesn't stop him. he starts rolling around and screaming louder. the big one keeps punching himself even harder. sort of reminds me of the scene from fight club.

this continues for what seems like an eternity to me. my head is hurting. the pressure of the situation is making my ears ring. i have tunnel vision and tunnel smell. all i smell is the cherry flavoring covering the shirt of the little one mixed with the smell of fresh blood coming from the big one's nose. the heat now feels oppressive. the hot asphalt is burning my pads. a beautiful day has turned into a scene from a gothic novel. i expect boo radley to come around the corner arm in arm with madame bovary. this must be fiction. this must be a dream. oh please tell me i'm back in my cage just dreaming. but alas this is the real thing. humans call it non-fiction.

everything is all bad at this point. we are stuck in a situation that no one knows how to get out of. even i, the author/dog can't figure out how to solve this intractable scenario. we are all stuck here. at least we are together, and that counts for something, doesn't it? together we have gotten ourselves stuck. some of us have enjoyed and even profited from the path that led us to this place. others have been warning that this is the wrong path and it will only lead us to exactly where we are right now, in a ring of hell. neither opinion helps us right now.

what we need is an ur author. someone to write us out of this place. someone who can create a happy ending or at least a plausible scenario that will be believable. someone who will take an incredible real life situation and make an equally dramatic ending. but life doesn't work that way. things just sort of fizzle out. or another equally improbable event takes our attention away and distracts us long enough for the original actors to quickly get off the stage and wipe up the fake blood. and somewhere months later when the memories come back, we only remember the parts that affected us. we are open to the shaman story teller to place memories into our heads. to create a reality that never existed, but one we will remember as if it did. tell me a story with enough details and it will become a cherished memory. claim that the story is the "truth" and you'll have me eating out of your hand, a position that this dog is very familiar with. feed me.

we are in a downturn

2009-02-20T21:31:00.004-07:00

no duh. actually i originally entitled this post "things suck" but then i remembered that my last post used the word suck in it as well. i don't usually like to be that blatantly redundant. hence the suckless title.

i've been down lately, which is really the thoughts behind the title. the economy really doesn't make much of a difference to me. and i can't really understand the news. oh i understand what the journalists are saying. i write for god sakes. i just don't understand the concept of listening to rich journalist/celebrities talk about what real americans are thinking. how do they know? you know who pisses me off the most...that cokie roberts. god i hate her. if she were here right now, i'd show her my teeth.

the other day i met a cat online. i usually like to chase cats. but it is next to impossible to chase cats on the computer. when i'm being walked and that scent just waffles to my nose. makes the hair on my back stand up. i have to start pulling the leash. i have to chase. must chase. must run. not sure what i would do if i ever caught up to the cat. i'll leave that up to your imagination.

so the cat's name is kierkegaard. can you believe it? kierkegaard is old, wise and doesn't do anything but chat on the computer when his peeps are gone. talk about depressing. he completely lives up to his name. we had this long talk about abraham sacrificing isaac the other morning. all i wanted to talk about was bureaucracy and he kept coming back to existential angst. now i'll grant you he has some pretty interesting insights. although what a downer. now i'm no clown, i admit. i can bring readers down as quickly as the next dog, but look out for kierkegaard especially if you are prone to depression. this should not be interpreted as a slam on that cat. he is pretty great and damn what a mind. but it seems like in this day and age all the smart ones are depressing. guess that is what happens after eight years of being ruled by a complete amoral idiot.

oh and another thing. i overheard someone at the bus stop saying that this down economy is clinton's fault. they said there is a lag in the timing of the economy. she said that in 8 years we'll all experience the bush boom. can you believe the stupidity of some people? just had to get that off my chest. now if i wanted to be nice i'd say that no one likes to admit that their entire philosophical under girding and belief system is completely fucked. because what would that leave you? everything you believed in has been proven unequivocally fucked. doesn't leave much to live for. so instead of blaming your heroes and their beliefs and policies you come up with a cockamamie excuse. and since there is nothing in your head anyway, the fox news talking points make a great crutch to lean on.

thanks kierkegaard.

pet blogs suck

2009-02-18T11:24:00.005-07:00

so as a dog i'm a pack animal by nature. pack meaning social. and of course like any self-respecting dog there is almost nothing i like more than hanging with the gang and terrorizing the neighborhood. on the rare occasion that i can sneak out of the house i like to find willy, fido and brutus and wander around aimlessly. if we see someone walking they better look out, because we are the baddest dogs in the hood. you know we'd never hurt anyone, unless they look at us askance. thankfully they usually see us coming and get out of our way.

so back to the topic at hand and enough of the macho bravado. so the other day i was surfing the world wide web and i came across a story on salon about pet trends that suck. the author talks about pet blogs. not blogs written about pets, but blogs written by pets. wink wink nudge nudge. i hate that kind of shit. i followed some of the links that this author gave us and ms. rolnick is right on. i've never really looked for pet blogs. they suck. "today i sucked on my toes" today, master played ball with me for two whole hours. aren't i the luckiest dog in the whole world?" "he brushed and pet me for an hour while he watched america's most wanted. i love my master." fooey. banal pet blogs secretly written by the big ones suck.

but the good part of this is that it just shows how unique my blog is. i might be the only pet blog actually written by a dog. that is why the salon article didn't mention kafka. that is why max the retriever didn't respond to my emails. all the other pet blogs are shams. pet blogs are written by people or really really stupid dogs.

something of a breakthrough

2009-02-13T16:07:00.004-07:00

i've always wondered what is the fascination with breaking ice that the big one has. yes you know i love the pow pow. we do live in vail for god sakes. there is nothing quite like running through the freshies with your mouth wide open and your neck tilted down so that your open mouth scoops up the white gold. if you are a warm weather dog....i'm sorry.

but that is what i like. the big one and the little one like to break ice. i've never understood. on walks, especially in the spring when the snow begins to melt, the big one always walks me close to the edge of the street so he can walk on the fragile ice and break it. maybe it is the sound that it makes. maybe it is his way of destroying something without the usual consequences of destruction. maybe it is just the sound. i wasn't sure until this morning. because until this morning i've never experienced the sublime pleasure of breakage.

today on our walk i moved out from behind him onto his left and then i passed him and quickly swerved right in front of his marching feet. this brought me squarely onto the ice shelf that lines the right side of the road. my mind was thinking how cool it was that now that i'm directly in front of him i can control his speed. but just as soon as that thought registered i felt the ground give. i stepped through the ice shelf. i heard the crack and crunch. i felt the ground break beneath my right front foot. damn that felt good. kafka, the destroyer. i tried and tried to repeat the task, but to no avail.

but now i know one of the joys of being a crusher of ice. my envy of the big one has increased by a degree.

i don't

2009-02-08T14:33:00.002-07:00

i don't usually do this but they might be home any second and i don't have the time for a complete post. so i'm just going to post this url from the onion. enjoy: dog story.

so funny i laughed until i peed (sp?)

2009-01-05T10:36:00.003-07:00

you are going to love this. if you are a dog, especially a big dog, try this one. you will thank me. as you know i'm a dog, so i'm not too smart. but on occasion i do come up with something that is show stopping. this is the best one in my 56 dog years. i do have mixed feelings about blogging about this, because once the big one reads this then the game is over. but i just have to share. i'm so tired of sitting in my kennel and laughing by myself.

this took some cultivation. when i was first adopted i pretended to be afraid of stairs. eventually they bribed me with tons of treats to go up and down. worked perfectly. lots of treats for just walking up and down stairs. i didn't even have to roll over or shake their hands. so then for about 6 years stairs were no big deal. then i decided it was time to harvest the seed.

for the past couple of weeks i sit by the bottom of the stairs and whine. make them think i'm afraid again. on occasion i'll scramble up. i can always get down. now the only time they usually go upstairs is to go to sleep. so they'll go up and shut off all the lights. i'll remain in the living room. when i hear them get really quiet, just when they are about to fall asleep, i'll start to cry. not a big sky is falling cry, not a bear is in the yard bark, just a little whine. just loud enough for them to hear me. i keep going and eventually the big one starts to whistle and call my name. i love it when he calls my name and i don't respond. so i continue to whine and he continues to whistle. this wakes up everyone.

eventually i can tell he starts to loose his temper and he comes downstairs. now imagine this sight. he comes downstairs in his boxer briefs. i'm laying at the foot of the stairs. he has to step over me. he turns on the light, and then makes that great face when the light hits his eyes. he hates it.

he trys to coax me with kindness. doesn't work. he goes to the pantry and gets a treat. sweet. then he does what i love. i have him at this moment. he is all mine. forget that he is the higher evolved being. i pwn him. he bends down and picks me up. i'm 85 pounds. he picks me up in his boxer briefs and carries me up the stairs. once we are up top he puts me down and gives me a treat. booya.

i can do this every night and it always ends the same way. god i love life.

yeehaw

2009-01-03T15:50:00.002-07:00

just thought i'd use this forum, which is mine afterall, to express some bitterness. everyone thinks i'm such an easy going pup. "kafka, you are so cute" "kafka, you are so sweet." sweet my ass. i want to bite. i want to growl. i want to threaten. but i can't. believe me i try. when i see that smug self-satisfied look on the big one's face it makes me want to bite his face off. but then i remember how he buys me that special dog food that doesn't give me the runs. if i bit his face off he might buy me purina, or worse yet that shit they sell at walmart roy something or another. now that would really suck. so the only thing i bite is my tongue. i hold in the rage, hold in the anger, hold in all the feelings. repression is good i keep telling myself. push it down, stuff it down, hold it down. wag the nub, shake the butt, cuddle up when i have the chance. that will keep the runs away, and isn't that every dog's dream???

i read something that caught my nose

2007-05-23T15:50:00.000-06:00

they left a back issue of the believer magazine open on the bathroom floor. so when they were gone i went to have a look. i can't turn pages, what with the paws and all, so luckily it was laying open to a very interesting page. i didn't read the whole story, in fact i just read the opening paragraph. but that was enough to spark this entry. the writer, i'm not sure what his name is, said something along the lines that people remember through story, they imagine the future through story, and they think through narrative. story and humans are forever linked. it got me thinking what about us canines. as far as i can tell i don't think with any narrative structure. more like i paint pictures in my mind with my nose. i smell things, these smells stay in my feeble brain, like pictures. i can conjure up these images/smells when i'm feeling lonely or hungry. i also can predict the future through smell. when it is almost 7pm i start smelling my food even though it is locked away in the pantry. then the big one opens the pantry and i'm not just smelling the food in my mind, i'm actually sticking my gaping maw into my bowl and swallowing the little smelly morsels whole.

just thought you might be interested.

chew chew chew chew

2007-05-05T14:56:00.000-06:00

i'm not referring to the sound of a train with bad spelling. i'm on a chewing, you know, teeth, binge. chewed some dvd covers the other day. still eating anything paper. ate a plastic spiderman action figurine. you should have seen the big one's face when i shat it out. you know i can't pass up crayons, especially the crayola brand. not sure why i'm doing it. do you know why you do anything? motivations are always a mystery to me. and even if you think you know your motivations more than likely it is a self deceptive excercise.

so my advice to you is to just chew. do what comes naturally. don't worry about the repurcussions because chances are you'll pass it soon enough. and if crayolas are your vice just imagine the pretty colored excrement that your actions are creating.

i'm born again

2007-05-05T10:54:00.000-06:00

not in any sort of metaphysical way but in a very mundane way. i'm writing again. to write is to exist...to write again is to be reborn.

things have been slow here. the ski season ended but the snow is falling today. it has been warm, which always means the big ones leave me out on the porch all day. not that i'm complaining, but would it hurt them to take me with them every now and then? the answer to that rhetorical question is a big emphatic noooooo.

enough of the bitterness, time to enjoy the spring time.

community radio rocks

2006-10-15T14:58:00.000-06:00

can you believe it? vail actually has a great radio station. radio free minturn 107.9 fm is the new community radio station. the big one has a show on mondays from 7-9pm. good scheduling, only conflicts with monday night football. he is a genius.

but besides him, there are actually quite a few very talented djs. when all the two footers leave me alone for hours upon hours i go up to their bedroom and turn on radio free minturn.

coincidence? you decide.....

2006-10-15T14:50:00.000-06:00

sucks doesn't it? just starting to get famous. noticed by skippy. getting hits from the entire world. then i stop writing. just drop off the face of the earth. what's up with that you ask.

it just so happens that at the same time that i stopped writing the big one's bosses cracked down on blogging on company computers. blogspot was location non-grata. couldn't get there if your life depended on it.

well low and behold the big one's bosses had a change of heart at the same time that i started writing again.

coincidence? i'm the only one who knows for sure.

sun is back

2006-02-28T15:35:00.000-07:00

the sun is shining again, although not for long. this doesn't make the skiers happy, but that isn't my goal. it does make the big black dogs who like the sun to heat up their coat very happy. i wanted to post something about the latest round of torture pictures. but these days that doesn't seem to get many people's dander up. i do want to ask what kind of sick fuck will use a dog as an instrument of torture? that pisses me off.

i can't even think how this country's morals are being ruined by the current administration. they are forever changing who we are. someone should sic this dog on them now. i'd show them what torture is. yea, i know what you are saying. "now kafka, you are now no better than them."
but dear friend, i don't have to be better than them, i'm a dog. they are supposedly humans.

anyway back to the front porch and the sun. the big ones will be home soon and i don't want them to catch me messing with the mac.

on the world stage

2006-02-10T18:50:00.000-07:00

you'd think with a name like kafka i'd be all about tons of people i've never met reading my scrawling. but you'd only be partially right. skippy has just linked to me. i'm now somebody. sure sure others have linked to me (family and friends). now don't think i don't appreciate those links and all that love, but this is different. i've heard many stories about skippy. maybe not the blog, but the old tv show. the big guy used to rush home from school to catch the daily episodes. he still can sing the theme song or at least the chorus of said theme song.

anyway i'm feeling a little under the gun to update a bit more often, be a bit more entertaining, show a bit more skin. this i will try to do. so please keep coming back and be sure to read these posts to all your pets out there be they feline, cannine, rodent, or human.

i had a dream

2006-02-01T08:59:00.000-07:00

george clooney came to me in my dreams last night. he walked right into my bedroom and told me that he did a great job of shaving. "kafka, my dog, take a look at this excellent shave. notice how the goatee is perfectly shaped. look how smooth the bottom of my chin is. this is going to be a most excellent day." i had to agree with him. his face was a wonderous thing. he could see the agreement in my eyes so he reached into his front right pocket and pulled out two milkbone brand dog biscuits, kingsize of course. he placed one of them on the top of my snout and i did that trick where i flip it up into the air and catch it before it falls to the ground. he seemed very proud of me. he took the other milkbone brand dog biscuit and put it into his mouth. i sat down in front of him and watched as george clooney chewed up a milkbone brand dog biscuit. when crumbs would fall out of the sides of his mouth i would catch them before they had a chance to hit the ground. we were a great team.

i woke up very happy this morning.

i chowed down on dough

2006-01-19T21:52:00.000-07:00

yea, you read that right. i've always liked to eat paper. i've been known to eat facial tissues. yea yea yea, it seems gross, but it tastes so good. anyway the other day i was laying under the dining room table. just minding my own business. the big one walked in late from work. he started to get undressed right there in the living room. took off those nylon snow pants things. he reached into his left front pocket to empty it. it was filled with crap. one of those pieces of crap, a dollar bill, fell to the floor directly in front of me. i thought he was feeding me so i sucked it up and began to chew. you should have seen the shit storm that this started. he absolutely freaked out on me. "kafka no! kafka off!" blah blah blah blah. i must say though that that green dollar bill didn't taste nearly as good as a kleenex. it certainly wasn't anything special enough to get him so riled up. i don't think i'll ever understand people.

he won

2005-11-13T10:20:00.000-07:00

so the big guy won his election. big deal. he can't even fit inside of doors now, his head is so freakin big. he sits on the phone talking to all those other bigwigs, thinking he is one of them. well i have some news for mister big. it doesn't matter if he is an elected official with a four year term. it doesn't matter that he is a progressive fighting for the right to party. it doesn't matter that he is now one of seven people who can decide to build affordable housing or a rec center here in faux bavaria. what matters is that his lap is still warm and he finds time for me to put my long runny nose in it. and so far he seems to understand this.

a valid excuse...lemon juice

2005-09-12T16:21:00.000-06:00

ok, ok. i know i haven't written in a while, but seriously i have a great excuse. let me explain. basically i'm writing this for myself and the male big one. as we are the only two who read this thing anyway. i've seen him reading it and he laughs and laughs. sometimes while he is reading my musings i believe he might even have some genuine affection for me. which under normal circumstances would make me want to write more and more. you know how us dogs just love attention and affection? but that was before the latest lemon juice incident.

sometimes i bark. sometimes i don't. i don't see what is such a big deal about a little bark. but obviously he thinks its a major crisis. fuck him. he had the nerve to put me out on the porch, when there was company. you know how much i love company. get that little nub of a tail shaking. it's what i live for. so he thought i was getting a bit too rambunctious. it was all in fun. so he puts me out on the porch. i could hear all the fun, but i couldn't participate. they were eating for god sakes. how could he expect me to remain quiet? so i barked.

he growled something through the door. he must have been growling with his mouth full. i couldn't understand a word. so i barked again. this time he came outside. the look on his face made me nauseous. he had that stupid little yellow bottle in his hand. fuck him. i immediately sat down and gave him the eyes. his facial expression didn't change. he reached out and opened my mouth and squirted the tartness directly down my throat. fuck him.

i was pissed and emabarassed. so i barked. he came back out onto the porch with that stupid little yellow bottle. fuck him. he squirted again. fuck him.

so that is why i haven't written in so long. i don't want to provide him with even an ounce of joy. until he apologizes or hell freezes over. fuck him.

a new milestone

2005-07-31T13:29:00.000-06:00

so the youngest one in the house just surpassed me intellectually. i know he can't type, but his brain is now more developed than my own. sure sure i can cope much better than him, and i'm much more independant, but he can imagine. let me paint the picture for you. the other day, i think it was friday. he walked to the closet where they keep my food. he opened the bi-fold door and reached his hand into my food bag. of course my mouth was watering. "oh what is this? an unexpected afternoon treat!" he pulls out his hand holding the small measuring cup they use to portion out my daily rations. but instead of it being full with the goodness of canidae expensive dog food. it was empty. but he went through the motions anyway. he took the empty vessel and held it over my food bowl. he dumped it over and called me to come and eat. it was empty for god sakes. there was no food in my bowl. and yet he kept saying, "kafka eat, kafka eat." what am i supposed to do with this? i'm lost.

been a while

2005-07-31T13:26:00.000-06:00

sorry it has been so long since we last conversed. or more accurately i monologued at you. anyway i won't make up any excuses. i just didn't write. plain and simple. i am sincerely sorry for this...but not so sorry to think that i won't go on another hiatus any time soon.

now i gotcha

2005-07-09T00:01:00.000-06:00

just put a sitemeter counter on this thing. now i'll know if my suspicions are correct. i strongly believe i'm the only one who ever reads this page. now i'll know.

some changes

2005-06-26T09:10:00.000-06:00

made a few changes. got rid of those elitist capital letters in the blogspot template. fuckers.

added a quote from my namesake.

now back to contemplating the state of the universe.

fire rove

2005-06-24T15:57:00.000-06:00

i know i know i'm a dog. but sometimes dogs have to do what others won't. i had the big one sign a petition to have karl rove fired. you can sign it too.

http://www.PetitionOnline.com/fireturd/

thanks for making this country better for us dogs.

i'm hungry i'm hungry i'm hungry

2005-06-23T12:02:00.000-06:00

and i've got such gas. years ago (dog years) i watched one flew over the cuckoos nest. i love the character who goes around repeating in a whisper i'm tired i'm tired i'm tired. so many times my baser urges require me to repeat and repeat. i whisper my needs so low that no one but i can hear them. my inner voice screams but nothing is vocalized. i bet you are thinking that this is very frustrating. it is not. it is just my existence. this is who i am. this is how i am. i tirelessly repeat my needs. i meditate on my needs. my needs are me, and i am my needs.

thankfully they are usually met.

eating my foot

2005-06-22T16:55:00.000-06:00

i sat for a few hours today and really chewed on my right hindleg. nothing feels quite as good as really biting on the paw. some dogs just lick their extremities...not me. i like to chew. my teeth digging into the pads feels so friggin good. it clears my mind. sort of a meditation type thing. sort of a psychotic type thing.

anyway enough of this typing shit...time to get back to the chew.

sunshine and psychosis

2005-06-17T11:31:00.000-06:00

laying in the sun always relaxes me. the strong colorado sun on my black coat is a temptation i can't resist. you'd think that i could just lay there and let life pass me by like all the other dogs i know. but if you know me you know that i can't. i lay there and think and fret. sure the sun feels good but i've got nothing in my mouth. i need something in my mouth. and last night we visited the neighbors and their hardwood floor. i hate hardwood floors. how am i supposed to walk when my feet slip all over the place? ahhh the sun is heating my flanks but shit we are now a nation who tortures. fuck it.

why i don't capitalize

2005-06-16T10:24:00.000-06:00

i've received so many emails asking me the same exact thing. "kafka, why don't you capitalize?" well besides the fact that i'm a dog and i have a tough time using the shift key, i believe that like all creatures, all letters are equal. why should one letter stand out over the others. every letter is part of the whole. i hate the elitism that so many humans exhibit when they give preferential treatment to some letters. fuck that. we are all equal. you, me and all the letters.

a good music morning

2005-06-16T10:08:00.000-06:00

woke up to the sounds of woody guthrie today. the big ones were playing guthrie's kiddy songs. "this machine kills fascists" we need a woody guthrie today. he would definetly have his hands full. after the guthrie cd finished they put on rocket to russia. thank god my parents have good taste. one of the main reasons i left the first home was that they listened to jam bands. what dog in their right mind wouldn't runaway?

amnesty international

2005-06-10T19:36:00.000-06:00

too many people have been pissing on amnesty international lately. well this dog picks out his piss targets very carefully. i sniff and sniff and make sure that the perfect spot is chosen and then soaked appropriately. and i can tell you that amnesty is not the right target. if you've been pissing on them you should really go and look in the mirror to see the correct target.

anyway go to http://www.pandagon.net/ and donate during their blogathon. i know i will...if they'll accept a donation from a dog.

chew it up

2005-06-10T08:20:00.000-06:00

i can't believe i'm sitting at work and the big one forgot to bring a chew toy again. its not that i need possesions. i'm very happy just laying on my back with my legs spread. but a good chew toy really satisfies. you know when people come into the office and i start to freak out....well i need something in my mouth. so it looks like another day of chewing on plastic coke bottles from the recycling bin. thanks alot.

a great post

2005-06-09T18:35:00.000-06:00

i just had to mention that amanda's post today at pandagon was very uplifting. you know the one i'm talking about...the pep talk. http://www.pandagon.net/archives/2005/06/a_pep_talk.html

jam bands make me want to chew up plastic bottles. give me the ny dolls any day.

getting so much better all the time

2005-06-09T18:33:00.000-06:00

feeling better...not itching....supposed to snow tonight. god i love snow. i love to run as fast as i can and put my mouth between my front legs and open it wide. the snow forces itself into my gaping maw. god i love snow. but this is summertime. it only snows at night, and then not enough to taste.

summer has returned

2005-06-08T15:27:00.000-06:00

not snowing anymore. summer here. grass feels good while rolling in it. itches like hell after about an hour. must take steroids....stop itching now. please stop itching. can't scratch anymore. please help. please help........

lefty blogs

2005-06-04T13:04:00.000-06:00

not talking about which paw is dominant. i envy the hell out of those bloggers who can think of intelligent things to write about every day...sometimes multiple times a day. i guess my doggy brain isn't as developed as those cat lover's brains. i'll try and post some things that might get me noticed, but then again maybe its best just to continue to blog about what i'm feeling as my little doggy toes dance on the keyboard.

snow in june

2005-06-04T13:00:00.000-06:00

snowing outside today. i know, i know. this isn't interesting to anyone but me and my family. so what. there is no one but me and my family reading this blog. i like to think of this project as doggy masturbation. so sue me.

my little brother the human's annoying habit

2005-05-27T19:26:00.000-06:00

my two year old little brother has developed a very annoying habit. instead of throwing his half-full food bowl onto the floor when he has decided he doesn't want anymore. he now calls over the big ones and hands it to them. where does this leave me? sustenance is no longer forth coming. oh the existential angst.

friday cat blogging

2005-05-27T19:19:00.000-06:00

feeh...cat blogging...cat blogging...cat blogging. i've had it up to here with cat blogging.

first time

2005-05-27T16:35:00.000-06:00

typing is hard for me because i'm a dog. please don't judge me by my grammer and spelling as i'm a dog. if you read something here you don't like...cut me some slack i'm a freakin dog.