A cocktail joke for the New Yorker set. It isn't funny anymore... thin stray cat thrown out with the garbage. The white cat in Mexico City: I slapped it across the face with a book. I can see the cat running across the room to hide under a lumpy junked armchair.I can hea the cat's ears ringing from the blow. I was literally hurting myself and didn't know it.
Then the dream in which a child showed me his bleeding finger and I Indignantly demanded to know who had done this. The child beckoned me into a dark room and pointed the finger at me and I woke up crying "No! No! No!"
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