I am sitting at my self-styled desk. My alcove. My turret room on a cold and rainy night– hammering out on my Sears and Roebuck typewriter the passions and furies of a passionate and furious lifetime. When I woke up this morning the apartment was in black and white. Dreary, gray, overcast dry long day ahead. Stumbling and wheezing to the bathroom I grabbed by red spread lying on the floor by the side of the bed to throw around me as I went to the bathroom… a cold yellow feeling hit my back in the gray shitty apartment. Cat piss. A thousand bells and sirens go off simultaneously in my head. Just before I went to bed last night I had put on my robe and Solomon had pissed on the back of it. I caught him and shook him as he pissed himself and all over the floor with fear. I rubbed his face viciously in the piss-smelling robe. And now this. This morning to cope with and this terrible gray room to have to get my shit together in. And now the cat had done it again.