Saturday, December 11, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
I catch clear glimpses of Kiki through Ruski. I have felt Kiki right there when I pick up Ruski and he doesn't want to be picked up..."Dejeme, William! Tu estas loco." And the time I slapped him...the averted face, downcast eyes...then he was gone. And of course I knew just where he was and carried him back to the house..."Thin stray cat used to be me, meester."
Kiki left me and went to Madrid. He had good reason to leave. Terminal junk at the time. He was stabbed to death in a hotel room by a jealous lover who found him with a girl.
Kiki in Tangier, Angelo in Mexico City...and someone else I cannot identify because he is so close to me. Sometimes he is there in my face and body, real as anybody could be, and he says, "IT'S ME, BILL...IT'S ME," over and over. That's the way it is with Ruski when he squeaks and puts his paws up to my face. He is not as demonstrative as he used to be. Sometimes he moves away from my hand..."You shame me, William, I am not a nino." It can get quite creepy.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Two American tourists in Britain are attacked by a werewolf that none of the locals will admit exists.
A new kind of horror classic evenly combining (or confronting) humor with bloodcurdling splatter.