Cats on the set

Just a short memo about cats on the set. In the movie The Godfather, Marlon Brando is sitting with a cat on his lap. Brando gives it an expertly hand treatment and the cat purrs and rolls around. You may think this scene was carefully scripted and rehearsed. In fact, the cat was a stray in the studio, nobody knew it, it was placed in the last minute on Brando's lap by director Coppola and it immediately started working. But it didn't earn any credit or goodies for its performance, as far as we know, and the job was a one-off. Now in da movie A Man Called Ove, there's also a cat, this time a long haired one, who is likewise absent from the cast list. Why that is, is hard to tell, since that cat has quite a big role in the movie and is in some ways a reflection of the main character. Like Ove is an obsessive life saver, the cat also is a life saver. It saves the life of obsessively suicidal Ove. If you cut to the chase, the movie is actually about the man saving cat and the old crusty curmudgeon is but the side dish, even if a tasty one. To be completely honest, I did find mention of the cat in the trivia section of the entry about the movie on IMDb. It is stated there that the cat's role was played by two ragdoll cats, Magic and Orlando, both of Polish origins and probably blood related. You might argue that omitting Magic and Orlando from the cast list is yet another example of structural racialism and homocentrism that runs contrary to the ethos of liberal Sweden. On the other hand, the movie tried to be including in other ways. You had mentally ill people, gay people, handicapped people, middle eastern people, old people and two Polish cats in it. So on the whole, we shouldn't complain too much.

Letters from a lost doll

Shortly before his death, Franz Kafka took a stroll in a park in Berlin with his last companion, Dora Diamant. In the park they met a little girl who was crying bitterly over her lost doll. In those day, poverty was rampant and deep and a missing doll unlikely to be replaced with any other. So Kafka took it upon himself to ease the girl's pain by other means. He told her, the doll is alright and had just sought out another family. She'd written a letter about it to the girl that he'd bring to her on the following day. And so it was. For three weeks in a row he came unfailingly to the park and read out loud the doll's letters to the girl, each day a new letter. The girl soon forgot all about her pain of losing the doll and was awaiting eagerly to get a fresh letter instead. To somehow put an end to the story, Kafka wrote a last letter in which the doll is leaving her new home in order to get married. That is roughly what we know about the contents of Kafka's doll letters. Not much to go by, admittedly. We therefore take the liberty to amplify and elaborate on this skeleton of a story about a story and give the old bones a new lease of life:

Dear Lucy, this is Anni, your old doll, writing to you from the town of .......where I reside at the moment. I was anyway looking out for a new family for some weeks so it wasn't too bad you leaving me in the park the other day. How soon was I adopted! My new owner's name is Lina and she has recently started going to school. I'm her only doll and she's very happy having me. She walks around the house with me and never leaves me out of sight. At night, we sleep together, side by side. She closes my eyes, and we fall asleep immediately. I'm in good health, eating plenty three times a day and doing my doll exercises in the nearby park. Just wanted to let you know that I'm okay and haven't for a minute forgotten about you. Miss you millions. I will keep you informed whenever I can. Stay put and the letters will flow your way.
Your best friend, Anni the doll.

Dear Lucy, this is Anni again, your old doll writing to you and hoping you are not in despair anymore, because I got lost from you and was later found by another family. Did I mention Lina had a father and a mother and a little brother called Heinzi. Her mother is very dedicated to cleaning and cooking and her father is helping her out at the moment, because he's unemployed. He still goes out every morning to seek a job, but most days he comes home early with a the same sad face as the day before. Lina and me call him Herr. Sourpuss behind his back. We both hope he soon finds something to do so we can have other things to eat than Sauerkraut. It becomes a bit boring after a while. But hey, I shouldn't complain. I know I'm dead lucky to have found a loving family who have space in their hearts for scrawny, little dolls in dire straits. I hope you too are doing well, Lucy, I miss you and think about you and the fun we had together many times a day. Bye for now, talk soon.
Your best friend, Anni the doll. 

Dear Lucy, this is your Anni doll, the one and only. I had such a bad dream last night. What was bad about it was waking up. As long as it lasted, I was merry and gay,  playing and moving about in the park with my Lucy girl. The sweet swish of the swings, the action packed play houses and the ever so busy slides, the birds chirping away on the trees and mothers and nannies chit chatting leisurely at the outskirts. Boys kicking the ball in random directions and chasing it with a lot of pushing and shoving until they for a moment come to a sweaty standstill before the next burst of untamed energy. And the darkness in the damp room, where I found myself without knowing who I was or where. A total panic sweeping me and uncontrollable sobbing. Lucky for me,  Lina woke up and took charge giving me a comforting hug and calming me down somewhat. So even though I was very pleased to meet you so unexpectedly, I'd have to ask you to please stay longer next time around! I miss you so very much.
Your best friend, Anni the doll.

Dear Lucy, it's me, Anni the doll, writing to you again. I hope, you've been well. It's been a while, I'm so sorry. The thing is, we've been kinda busy recently. Clara and Magnus, Lina's parents, have decided to open a small business together. They are offering cooking, laundry and gardening services to whoever can pay, just to earn a little money for the household. Lina and me are trying to help as best we can after school with different chores in the house and going on small errands around town. Even little Heinzi is trying to be helpful, but he's too small, so we ask him to sit still or play with his tin soldiers in another room. When the day is over, I'm usually very tired and sometimes I even lose and arm or a leg out of sheer exhaustion, but Lina comes quick to the rescue and assembles me before I lose a vital body part for good like those poor war veterans we saw the other day, begging for money by the cathedral. It was so utterly sad and our pockets were empty just then. I hope we can give them something one of these days, if only it'll be some bread. Take care you too.
Your best friend, Anni the doll.

Dearest Lucy. Today, I got the parcel you've sent me - a large batch of home made cookies for the wounded soldiers by the cathedral. They all arrived in one piece and have been delivered to the famished consumers earlier the day. It was a delightful surprise for the poor sods, I wish you could have watched the scene with us. My own little doll stomach is a bit bloated now, in sympathy with them wretched devils.
Magnus says, nothing will change for the better before this corporal with the mustache from Munich seizes power in the country. But Clara disagrees with him. She says the corporal is a mad donkey and things could soon worsen if the head of state is aff his rocker. Lina and me believe Clara is right, but we don't dare say anything lest Magnus will feel defeated by his own kin and lose what's left of his feeble self confidence. I've gotta run now, we are going to the doll theater soon, Lucy and me. It's Kabuki, maybe you've heard of it. Take care, and thanks so much for the cookies. Your best friend, Anni the doll.

Dear Lucy, your Anni the doll's calling. I hope, you are good and well. I had this frightful visitation last night. A ghastly ghost showed up in my bedroom claiming to  represent the as of yet unborn shadow writer of my own letters. Such a preposterous imposter! The ghost looked dismal and pale and not very vivacious. I got very upset with his cheekiness and slapped him hard across the face. Soon, he dissolved through the cracks in the wall and I could go back to sleep. A most annoying intruder. I'm certain Lina will be delighted to push my dislocated arm back in place, tomorrow. In the mean time, I'm sleeping on my good shoulder. I surely hope, you had no such encounters. Life is hard enough as it is, one should think. Take care and the best doll greetings to your old folks and to fuzzy Alfred, the loyal shepherd dog. Stay in touch! Anni, your one and only.

The takeshift bed

My bed has turned increasingly into a takeshift bed. Like cars by the traffic lights come and go all day long, so do the members of the crew come and go on my bed. Yesteryear's clear hierarchies and patterns of dominance are under pressure, all solid things are falling apart, the old certainties have gone and anarchy is looming large.
You never know what to expect anymore. Yesterday, I went to sleep with Aerial and got up with Joely Panther. How did this come about? Was it a peaceful takeover or did they have a bloody row? I swear I didn't feel or hear a thing. Today, Norsky is in momentary possession of the coveted terrain. But for how long? At some point, he'll have to change his position and then the territory will be up for grabs. Who will be the usurpor this time? And who will get ousted? Wimbelina perhaps? Not long ago, she was the uncontested queen of the bed, but these days, Joely Panther is proving himself to be the most avid shift taker. It goes well with his sleepy demeanor. And with the new winds of change blowing our way from across the ocean. We try to stay calm and composed amidst all this turmoil. We'll need all our strength for tribulations to come.

New name to Joely Pants

Joely Pants just got himself a brand new name. He's solemnly baptized Joely Panther as per now. Two recent events gave us the impetus to take this course:

One was the surprising discovery made by a joint israeli-french research team concerning the effect a person's given name has on the person. It seems that other people can pick out merely by watching a photo of the person, what the person is called, among several choices. The researchers conclude that a person starts resembling his name while growing up. To be honest, I think that the effect found could be attributed wholly and solely to the families socio-economic standing. People are quite good at sniffing out to what echelon a person belongs socially and since names are not evenly distributed socially, but differ according to education level and like parameters, much of the mystery is solved. But what do I know, perhaps Sitting Bull did in fact become more Sitting Bullish during his day.

The other event was a recent vid showing how a very angry black leopard called Diabolo was treated by animal communicator Anna Breytenbach. She sure has a way with animals. In one communication session she vetted him dry of info. He told her, among other things, that he didn't in particular like his name and wished it changed. Diabolo's owner -  Jurg Olsen - who has a wild cats refuge in South Africa, consented to giving him a new name - Spirit. Diabolo or Spirit as he's now called, has metamorphosed completely. He used to snarl and growl angrily all day long, but now he's much more social and content. No small miracle.

I hope a similar transformation will take place with Joely Panther, once he hears his new name. I just wonder how I can explain away, all the times I called him a stupid cat. I had no idea back then, that he had discursive abilities. Well, you learn as long as you live. I guess.

These cats are bound for glory

After another stressful week, full of falsehoods and false allegations of falsehoods, it is rather soothing to find refuge on the pages of Giacomettisfriends on a Sunday morning. Here, you meet no liars of any consequence, no major gamblers or big shot ramblers. Here, there are no twisters and no tweakers, no mean spirited serpents, no devious civil servants, only a bunch of righteous cats, wailing their gospels in the deep of night.
People can't tell a lie from the truth. Cat's can't even tell a lie.
Whatever they do, they do it from the bottom of their hearts..and from there bottoms. That's it, and that's that. Sae let the Lord be thankit.