The Kat Cave

Dear Josh,

I would be willing to take a lie detector test to prove that I have had at least 60 astral travels where I connected with John Frusciante. I am also a musician/artist, and your collaboration with John on the past albums since Shadows Collide With People is a mirror image of things I have experienced in my life. I would like to solve this haunting mystery once and for all. I am absolutely not a stalker or a crazed fan. I am a mother of two, and have by no means, the time, money or energy to attempt to follow him around. I live in Minneapolis, starting my new life without my husband, who is a witness to these dreams since the first one in 1999. He has claimed to have cheated on me, because he believes that John dreams of me also. I just want to know why I keep finding him in my dream life. I want absolutely nothing from him or you, but an answer, so that I could move on in my life in a more “normal” fashion. People that know me know that I am absolutely truthful. I would send you a long list of references from friends, family and employers, that would tell you this is the case. I know a lot of dead people. My parents (Susan (Suzie) and Bruce (former Minneapolis Police officer) are both lurking on the otherside. I believe that John is meant to be a friend of mine. For what reasons I am not entirely sure, but I am willing to guess it is because our music is very similar in lyrical content, as is the way we approach music, as if in our “baby shoes”…
Please offer Mr. Frusciante the opportunity to read this email. I have a cousin in L.A. that has seen him frequently, and is willing to speak with him in person of this long line of psychic ability in the family. However, Matt Logelin (my first cousin) is headed off to India for 6 months for work, beginning February 1st. It was the first dream of John, where I met him on a bridge in a setting I would later discover (dejavu) in Amsterdam. I lived there for 3 years with my husband that I met on the “Been Insane” message board, the very first time I had ever been on one, where we later met and grew fond enough of eachother to have 2 children, Marley and Amadeus. I am not searching for any “man replacement” or have any selfish, self-promoting, or monetary reasons for trying to connect with John. I would just like to know, if indeed he would know my face from a mile away as well? I have had many foreshadowings of the albums before they were released. I have also made art that foreshadowed the DCEP. Please take this email seriously, kind sir. I very much respect you both as musicians and spiritualists as to never bother you in any way, shape, or form. My only wish is to be able to thank John for his profound effect on my life and music. Especially, for connecting me to my “shadow children” and for being my greatest teacher, here on earth, and in the skies. When I connect with John, he is always my friend. Again, I hope that you receive this message and take it seriously. Since these albums came out beginning with “Shadows Collide” it has more or less turned my world upside-down. I even went to therapy because of it, which was a big mistake. Try to explain the supernatural to a therapist, and they will just prescribe you medication. All my best wishes and greatest respect to you Josh, (incidently, my brother is also named Josh) and to Mr. Frusciante. You make the most ultimate beautiful music as a team, that words cannot express fully. My wishes to you are good health, happiness, and musical affluence. Please take my words as absolute truth, I cannot lie.
Respectfully,

[Name of now 38 year old, and email, and phone number removed]

P.S. I am willing to send you a photo, but I have been told that I look much like Linda Carter (Wonder Woman) or Courtney Cox… haha, I look like me.

I spent CA$1749 on a laptop this weekend.

Money I’ve earned by sitting on my butt, making judgement on someone else’s writing. And I spent it on something silver and shiny for myself.

And now my karma is out of whack, so in the next 24 hours, I will attempt to redress this and get my karma on an even keel.

I nearly wrote “an evil keel” there. This may be something to do with wishing someone was stranded in the desert to survive off their own body fat. I’m not normally so bitchy. But when my best friend was diagnosed with breast cancer and disappeared, thus causing the cancellation of a huge party, said person complained to me that her holiday was ruined. Like I was worried about said person’s holiday, when I was travelling across country, with three young children looking for my missing friend who was close to being desperately sick, physically and mentally. Some people don’t have their priorities right.

Money doesn’t make things right. One can’t buy off problems. One can’t assuage ones conscience by throwing money at things. But it can make things easier, even if only for a short while.

I ate a whole crispy peking duck earlier, and was then violently sick, so maybe the duck was a mistake. In the sense of balance, I must now intake more food, having made a gap, and I’m not sure what to eat. I am not bulimic.

I came out of the bathroom to three worried little faces, wondering if I’m OK. I feel bad that my kids are worried about me. They shouldn’t, I’m fine. Kids of that age should never have to worry about their parents.

I managed to make a whole compilation CD without using tracks of REM and Radiohead. In fact, I managed to include a track or two recorded within the last year. I’m proud of myself.

There is no point to this post. I’ve been mulling over my previous post, where I talked about family photos and suchlike.

On my Facebook page, I had loads of people asking about my wedding photos - people that haven’t bothered to talk to me before now. Would you stop a stranger on the street and ask to see their photos? Weirdos. Really.

Oh, this rant could go on for quite sometime…..

Why don’t you show us pictures of your babies? Why don’t we see more pics of you? We don’t even know what you look like!

Those are just some of the comments I get, mostly via Facebook.

In truth, there ARE some pics of my babies on Facebook. They’re just kept hidden from a lot of my “friends”, because, it truth, you’re not my friend. I don’t know you. We haven’t staggered out of bars drunk, and we haven’t lied to each other’s parents, and we haven’t hugged and consoled each other over asshat boyfriends. Some of you haven’t even bothered to talk to me, via messages or in wall posts. I’m just there to increase your own friend count, and make you look super popular. Or you’ve befriended me to see my photos. Which is just nosy, and I feel a little invasive.

For most of my life, I’ve kept in touch with my family via webcam, through living in different cities, and in some cases, different countries. And so, with weekly webchats, my family have seen me and my kids.

In my circle of friends, I was the first to have kids. In fact, most of my friends are still free and childless.

Now, hark back to before you had children. Did you have friends that had children? Did they show you so many photos you could use them and make a flip book? This is Tarquin, looking to the left. Ooh, look at this one, he’s looking to the right! And you have to stifle a yawn and feign interest, whilst furiously texting under the table, hoping someone would rescue you.

Well, those people who use the internet to flood their friends with second by second pictures of their kids - those are just like the boring over enthusiastic Mommas.

And I’m more than just a mom to 5 kids. My kids are not the total of my life. I do other things.

My friends see my children when they come to visit. I send photos to friends every 6 months or so. And then I send just the one. My family see the kids via webcam or in person.

So why would I put all my photos online? And I’m seen as a freak for not doing so.

I find a lot of photos intrusive, like stolen moments. I don’t feel the need to capture every single second of my life, or my children’s life. We tut-tut the paparazzi who stalk the streets, capturing every second of people’s lives…. and yet think nothing of firing up the camera as soon as babies wake up and then waiting for nap times to upload the photos for the world to see, before charging the camera for the next session.

My gosh, I’m on a rant…..

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I like paper.

I may be all techy and stuff with a new MacBook, but nothing beats the feel of pen on paper.

I have to take a medication, and I’m hopeless at remembering such things.

So, being surgically attached to my Mac, I set a reminder in iCal. It has an alarm that goes off.

But…

My Mac syncs with MobileMe.

MobileMe pushes info to my iPod touch.

My Mac also syncs to my Blackberry.

I also get emails, as my iCal syncs to my GoogleCals. i sync over to Remember the Milk, and in Things, so I get 2 more duplicate alarms, or messages through MSN.

One appointment can trigger numerous alarms, that go off, one after another, as each device is seconds out of sync. And it’s nervewracking.

Ugh.

OK, so Michael Jackson is dead.

Don’t tell me you didn’t know…

But do we really need to see the pictures of his body bag being wheeled out?

When did this horrific trend start? The earliest incidence of this I remember was Heath Ledger; a death so unexpected that it seemed that people wanted to see the evidence. And every death since has been accompanied by a shot of the body bag. And it’s sick; the very very worst of human celebrity curiosity.

When will it ever end? Thai papers were castigated for showing pictures purporting to show David Carradine hanging in a wardrobe, lividity setting in. These were swiftly followed by pictures from his autopsy. And the world was revolted. But for how long? How long before we are demanding to see these pictures? See OK Magazine for the latest Autopsy photos! What Were They Thinking Special - Death Shrouds?

We are a sick sick people.

I have 5 children. All of them were born vaginally, all without epidural.

All were breastfed, for the first few months at least. I always had a phobia of breastfeeding babies with teeth, so when it got to about 6 months old, the first three babies were weaned and introduced to the joys of formula and solid foods.

And then I had the twins, Joe and Evangeline. It’s a strange feeling, going into your baby’s nursery in the morning, and seeing two little guys looking back at you, cooing and smiling. And breastfeeding twins has not always been easy, but it’s so rewarding. These two little guys have never known what it is to be alone. They’ve had company since conception. Everywhere they go in life, they’ll probably be asked where the other is. They’ll always be Evan and Joe.

And so each morning, I have a routine where I put the coffee on, set out the breakfast things, and then take ONE of the babies into the conservatory and sit and feed him or her, and spend a good 45 minutes with just me and them. We talk and sing and cuddle. It’s just one on one time. At this point, the other baby is having one on one time with daddy. And then we swap over, and I feed the other and have one on one time with them too.

The idea that I’m making enough milk to nourish and grow two other little people is incredible, and I love the closeness. I got so into the routine that I was planning on feeding them until they were 12 months.

But that dream is over.

I saw my doctor today, and I weigh 95 pounds with jeans on and my car keys and phone and iPod in my pockets. And that just isn’t enough. While I’m only short, it is not a weight that looks good on my, and I’m 15 pounds under my ideal weight, the weight that I feel happy and comfortable at.

It’s insane. I went to over 150 pounds when pregnant, and 6 months later, I just can’t break 100. I’m eating like crazy and drinking plenty fluids, but this last week, my milk supply has been going down - although this is probably a combination of weight loss in me and growth spurt in the babies.

And so, I have to have blood tests and I have to stop breastfeeding, on medical advice. I haven’t weighed this little since I was 14. It’s insane.

I’m devastated. Totally and utterly devastated. I’m not having any more children, and so never again will have that closeness to my babies.

I’m so freakin’ annoyed at my body. Why are you letting me down like this?

Miles Davies

1979. I’m 5 years old, with a Grandpa that hosted a jazz show on the radio, I grew up on a diet of Miles Davies, Thelonious Monk, John Coltrane and other jazz standards. Listening to it now, it brings back memories of Sunday mornings and the smell of coffee and watching Jamie - 3 years old at the time - blow so hard into a trumpet that he nearly passed out.

Simon & Garfunkel

10 years old… while everyone else was succumbing to bad 80s pop, I was still digging through my pa’s old records….

Leonard Cohen and New Kids on the Block

It scares me to think back to when I was 15 - I was such a typical teenage girl, thinking I was deep, writing bad poetry, and listening to nothing but Leonard Cohen. I still have arguments to this day with my pa, who is not a Cohen fan. He thinks he’s over-pretentious and pompous and overrated. I think he’s incredible. I loved him then and I love him now.

But then I had my random teenage crush on Jon Knight from NKOTB. Probably the 4th most popular member of a 5 boy band. Weirdly, I dreamt about him last night, and the Sharpei dog he used to have.

Radiohead

My Iron Lung was the soundtrack to my 20s. I listened to it today, and it still spoke volumes.

Pearl Jam and Sonic Youth

At 25, I had my first child, and went through a grunge phase in my pregnancy. My son is now 9 years old, and listens to these bands himself. Bull in the Heather still gets me dancing like a lunatic. I wanted to BE Kim Gordon.

REM

Now 30, with 2 children, and having toured with various big bands, REM is the one I always went back to listening to, and could never get bored of.

35…..

I’ll be 35 this year, now with 5 children, and my music tastes have expanded somewhat. I’m less emo than I used to be. I cry at Joanna Newsom songs, and I cry at Nirvana, thinking what a waste of an incredible voice. I’m proud that at this age, there’s very little in my music collection that I’m embarrassed by.

Except maybe NKOTB!

Since I had the twins, I’ve struggled like mad to keep any weight on. No matter how much I eat, it’s just not staying on.

I gained 58 pounds while I was pregnant - half my body weight. I was expecting a long struggle to lose the weight, but put no pressure on myself to do so.

6 weeks after the birth of Evan and Joe, I dropped down to 98 pounds. And it kept falling. And so I increased what I ate. I started exercising - yoga and pilates to get my strength up and build some muscle tone, and my weight went back to around 100. And I’m still there.

I’m breastfeeding the twins, and this is partly the problem - I have to eat enough calories to feed two growing babies. But I’ve had to drop one feeding and go to formula, because all the calories I’m taking in are going straight out my boobs and bypassing my butt.

“Oh, you’re so lucky” some people have told me. “I wish I was that slim” and so on.

These comments aren’t helpful.

A real woman has curves. She’s not a bony hatstand. I hate that my hipbones and shoulders poke out. Ryan counted my ribs last night. I’ve lost another 2 pounds in the last week, and that’s with the reduced feeding. I’m drowning in weight-gain shakes, and it’s doing nothing.

I’m trying so hard not to google to see what could be wrong.

I’ve had my thyroid tested three times since the birth, and it is appearing to be normal, so that’s been ruled out.

I don’t want to stop breastfeeding my babies, but I fear that that’s the only route I can take now. But I’m concerned that, as my boobs currently account for 40% of my bodyweight, getting on the scales will be even scarier….

So, I’m bored, and it’s been a while since I wrote.

Since then, a few things have happened.

Indie had a choking fit after stuffing down too many Oreos, and Ryan had to give her the squeeze. A night of whining and little parental symapthy, we gave in and took her to the hospital to find that she had a cracked rib.

Cue Kat and Ryan being investigated by Social Services. Especially in light of me having a broken hand last year. I’m just a klutz and Ryan would rather have cracked Indie’s rib than stand there doing nothing, letting our daughter die. But he still feels like a shit about it all, and is beating himself up.

I’m thinking of changing my laptop. Going for a 13 inch MacBook Pro that’s just been released. This laptop is kinda old and clanky, and while I love him dearly, my little patched up MacBook is coming to the end of his days.

The babies are growing by the day, and Evangeline is teething and making a big deal about it. Joe has to outdo her of course, and has grown a tooth without telling anyone. Great - I’ve birthed a drama queen and a secret squirrel.

I’m in love with Golden Shoulders’ new album, Get Reasonable. Although musically, of late, I’ve only been listening to Joanna Newsom and Nirvana.

I’ve been super productive of late, getting lots of writing and editing done. Life is good.

But I’m super tired; in fact make that super duper tired, and I’m bored of the internet. Facebook - check, email - check. Now what?

I get all my info delivered by RSS, and so don’t actually have to go to any websites anymore. Open mail, read top stories.

I’ve gotten on top of my invoicing, thanks to a whizzy program, and have found nearly CA$6K outstanding. Gotta chase that up or we’re on bread and water for the next few months.

I’ve not been reading so much, as it affects how I write and edit but have been listening to David Hewson’s Dantes Numbers again. Good book, but I found myself doing a partial rewrite of part of the beginning, as it could do with a little tidy up. Of course, if I listen back, my opinion will have changed again.

One of my best friends is having a baby in the next couple of days. I can’t get excited for her and can’t sympathise with the discomfort, as I carried TWO babies, and nothing compares to a twin pregnancy. Of course I’m super happy for her.

Yeah, I’ve done a whole lot of nothing. I wanted a life without drama, but these last couple of days have gone beyond drama free, and are making me wish I’d gone to Paris after all.