Poems and Texts

from “Notes on Snatch” by Andrea Long Chu

Andrea Long Chu & Roberto Montes
Wednesday,  January 30, 2019

My cat was two the day I got my pussy. She had beaten to me it—bottom surgery, I mean—by some twenty-one months, which is a hundred forty-seven months in her time. By the time I found her, in a small shelter near the United Nations building in Manhattan, I had nearly thrown in the towel. Three days of leaving the house in the freezing January rain, holding the cat carrier I’d purchased on Amazon Prime; three days of returning, after dark, soggy and empty-handed. It was terribly tragic. Getting a pussy is harder than you’d think. Cats rut in spring and summer, so adopting a kitten in the winter can be tricky. But on the fourth day, at the fifth shelter, I met a tiny creature, silver and marbled, three months old, freshly fixed by the vet upstairs. She clung to me like a tree, or a hope. They told me she was a boy, but I’d heard that one before. She trembled all the way home.
Photo credit: Kholood Eid

Andrea Long Chu

Andrea Long Chu is a writer and critic living in Brooklyn. Her writing has appeared, or will soon, in n+1, Boston Review, The New York Times, Artforum, Bookforum, Chronicle of Higher Education, 4Columns, differences, Women and Performance, TSQ, and Journal of Speculative Philosophy. Her book Females: A Concern is forthcoming this year from Verso.

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