“The cat years”

Another super sad spinster story. “The cat years” is depressing… looking at the dark side of life is important… for women, not having a family sets them up for a life that is composed more of misery and missed opportunities than for joy… yet younger women are systematically misled. I have some compassion and pity for spinsters… they messed up and they are an example to other women of what not to do.

Author: The Red Quest

How can we live and be in society?

2 thoughts on ““The cat years””

  1. “In my Wednesday-evening yoga class the teacher tells us that practicing gratitude is not enough; we need to get specific about what we’re grateful for. I list specifics during Savasana, or corpse pose: […] My twin sister’s sense of humor. My nine nieces and nephews. […] The cats I have. The cats I used to have.” I guess I learned something new: the barren can find longing nostalgia even in the memories of dead cats. I confess, I couldn’t help but laugh later when she mentioned “the Year of Dead Cats.”

    It’s impressive that in an age of dying media, little-known The Sun is still with us, and everything in it is still written with the exact same California New-Age tone as everything in it 25 years ago when I first discovered it on the local newsstand racks (which no longer exist). At that time, I thought it sounded literate. Today, I’ve had a lot more exposure to actual insight (much of it on the Internet, strangely, where you can find so much wisdom you’ll never find in a book, e.g., The Red Quest), and now I see this “literary” style as the meanderings of those who are impervious to learning.

    Hard to believe there was once a time when humanity took spiritual lessons from its suffering.


    1. There’s still much to be said for books, the older the better in many cases… I have only been able to do what I’ve done because I have read those books and thought about them… this is a true man cave, one with book shelves.

      The spinster is sad, but millions of women follow unwittingly, unknowingly, in her footsteps, like dinosaurs lumbering into tar sands, to be sucked down into death.


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