Archive for the ‘The Russian Blue’ Category

In which The Gay Recluse languishes. Yesterday we went for a run, even though it was 156 degrees out. When we were young, we laughed at the heat. Let’s just say we’re not as young as we used to be! Today we’re not going anywhere. Even though we’re kind of in the mood for a […]


In which Dante and Zephyr take control of The Gay Recluse. Friends! To those who have doubted, rest assured: the movement grows! True, many of us are funny — some are even hilarious — but we must always me mindful of the overriding truth: not every cat is a lolcat! Friends! Behold the Tsarina! (Photograph […]


In which Dante and Zephyr take over The Gay Recluse. Friends! Laugh all you want, but the truth remains: Not every cat is a lolcat!


In which Dante and Zephyr take over The Gay Recluse. Friends! Let’s be perfectly clear: not every cat is a lolcat!


In which The Gay Recluse reports on life at home.


In which The Gay Recluse ponders a sampling of recent search terms used to find the very pages you are now reading. Note: All search terms listed are in the exact form provided by WordPress.com, which is the host (at least for a while) of this blog. Hyperlinks to relevant posts included. Search: students ‘shallow […]


In which The Gay Recluse posts a photograph of a two-headed cat. Dear readers: We invite you to submit photographs of two-headed cats to us at thegayrecluse@gmail.com.  


In which The Gay Recluse ponders the transformation of the monumental into the mundane (and vice versa). Date of Incident: January 26, 2008 Time: 4:38 pm. Causes of Disaster: Failure to follow implemented routines; boredom, malaise. Remarks: Clean-up of the disaster area had already begun when workers were attacked by a savage, rampaging beast. There […]


The first snow of the season in our Washington Heights garden, and naturally we are drawn to that most unnatural of colors: the electric slate blue of the atlas cedar (Cedrus atlantica). Suddenly — are you with us? — we are on a train in northern Italy, watching the countryside drift past; here, it seems […]


Music courtesy of Saturnine from the album Remembrance of Things Past (VictoriaLandRecords 2007); released under a Creative Commons license here.


But did you not hear about the trial of the man who killed a cat that was stalking migratory birds in a Texas sanctuary? What a nightmare! On one hand, who can deny the allure of the cat, creature of the night, possessor of dreams? Yet who has not stood in awe of birds flying […]


On Beatrice

16Nov07

When the russet hues of the setting sun stream through our western window, as happened today, it is quite possible to imagine Beatrice in the distorted, filtered light, contemplative and hovering as if she were still there, peering into the distance, longing for something to take her away. The first time we saw her, however, […]


Each morning Zephyr wakes up and positions himself in front of the western window, where he sits perfectly still as the new day permeates the gray dawn. “For one so young, you seem remarkably serene,” we noted as we passed by to announce that breakfast would be imminently served. “It is true that I have […]


On Flight

18Oct07

The bleak and vaguely militaristic atmosphere of the terminal is now behind us; we have endured the stifling tedium of the runway and the paralyzing terror of the lift-off, during which we considered the high likelihood of our imminent death and regretted our many missteps. We thought with great tenderness of Dante and Zephyr and […]


We pull and tug at the blanket — the first cold night of the year is upon us — but it doesn’t move even an inch: it is trapped under the leaden weight of cats in the night. We shiver at the edge of the bed, longing to be covered and warm, to retreat to […]


Whenever the gay recluse leaves home, we find our dreams inhabited by those we have left behind. Several times in the passing nights we feel the slight pressure of paws walking across the terrain of the bed, pausing now and again to balance on our legs, as if to ask us if anything we have […]


We were woken up by the crash of something large and fragile, not in the bedroom but somewhere close, definitely inside the apartment. The first inclination was to blame Dante or Zephyr, but they seemed equally perplexed as we examined the crystal decanters in the dining room and the earthenware collection in the living room […]