Cica Music

Szaloncica composes music and dances to it for his Wandering Gata.
https://soundcloud.com/the-vegan-surgeons/szaloncica-dances-for-his

Official visit of Szaloncica and Wandering Gata To Madrid. 2

Accounts differ, but all testimonies agrees at least in the perennial presence of a cica in theTemple. La Venencia is the bar where the Sherrycica, the Goddess of Cica Consciousness resides, in José Echegaray street. She is the current incarnations of the Goddess. Other cats with different colours, most of them black, have lived in the temple. As such, the bar has not changed a bit in decades. The dust undoubtedly dates from the origins of time, or at least from the beginnings of the marketing in Madrid of sherry and all the different varieties of that Andalusian wines from the province of Cádiz. No other beverage is served in the Temple, and if anyone read what follows, it will be easy to understand the ritualistic reasons for its retail. In this spiritual liquid the sun of the Atlantic ocean shines, as in the eyes of the Goddess when she takes the liberty to look directly at you. In that instant the liquid gold becomes the sacrament of a mysterious communion, and the wisdom of the Cica consciousness is passed onto you. The pilgrims then, bathed in the holiness of the experience, can wander around Madrid, assured of the benefits of the protection of the Goddess. As an example, you can take the common and very civilised custom of serving tapas with every drinkin the bars of Madrid. For those initiated in the mysteries of La Venencia, the experience acquires a whole different dimension. In their various wanderings around the picturesque areas of the centre of Madrid, Szaloncica and Wandering Gata wisely took refuge in different bars and taverns. A beer here, or, specially, a vermouth there, refreshed them after their urban travels of shared discoveries But every time that a little tapa appeared in front of them, in the form of a small dish full of simple but juicy olives, or in the brutal form of a morcilla, or blood sausage, they knew that the offering was served to them with the utmost respect. The waiter always whispered, in a strong Spanish accent, a prudent and easily understandable “Miau!”.

Official visit of Szaloncica and Wandering Gata To Madrid. 1

Szaloncica and Wandering Gata travelled to Madrid, Spain, in their first official visit together. Among their multiple activities, the first and most relevant one in the context of Szaloncica and Wandering Gata global campaign for furthering cica consciousness was the visit to "La Venencia", the temple in Madrid where the Goddess of Cica Consciousness resides. For being a temple it is actually full of activities and amenities, all of them related with the selling and consumption of sherries and other wines of the same variety. No other beverages are allowed or served in the temple, with the exception of water.
As a temple its existence is only known to feline pilgrims, most of the customers will take it as a curious bar in the centre of Madrid. It is obviously more than that.
Amid the turmoil and confussion of such an stablishement the calm and wisdom of the Goddess of Cica Consciousness is evident. Lying in the altar she awaits for those who can recognise her. Only then she manifest herself, descends from the altar and wanders around the bar, inspecting the temple and complimenting the pilgrims with a glimpse of her wisdom.
This was exactly the case of Szaloncica and Wandering Gata, who were recognised and praised by the Goddess, as it is shown in the picture.
A clarification is needed. In order to respect the almost secret existence of the Goddess, Szaloncica and Wandering Gata had to assume human appereance. This should not come as a surprise to those who know the immense possibilities of Cica Consciousness.
Wandering Gata acquired the most pleasant appearance. Szaloncica showed his happines dancing the customary dance that all Szaloncicas performs for their gatas. Unfortunately, Szaloncica was not so successful. Wandering Gata greet his human appereance: Teljesen Macska, she said. But Szaloncica replied: De kicsi (es madjnem kopasz)! Sajnos! Both of them concluded. A long sigh followed. The Goddess of Cica Consciousness looked at both of them with an almost benevolent indiference.

Meditation on a candle (with Wandering Gata in the background). 2

 Szaloncica sips his dark beer, smokes once again his pipe and contemplates the brilliant and brief light of the tobacco burning in the depth of his pipe. The candle is still alighted, spreading a tiny and tremulous light through the Szalon. The candle is certainly a star. Its mechanism is akin to the inner atomic motor that makes stars last for centuries, thousands of centuries, eons that even Szaloncica struggles to conceive. Szaloncicas have a very special relationship with time. Incidentally, it may be worth mentioning the abilities of Cicas for breathing time, for inhabiting time, like if they were able to expand every second and occupy it way much better, let's say, than the human's clumsiness regarding the consideration of any real use of time. That's why, let's pursue this digression a few seconds more, a Cica seems to sleep, when he or she is actually living at a different and slower and more intense speed. Anyway, it is agreed, candles are like stars. They burn out of their own matter. Its size, the gravitational force of its incredible mass, compresses the core and fuses atoms, hydrogen, helium. The result is this endless atomic reaction. Slow, fed by the star itself that lives and dies at every second, its power being the root of its inevitable decay. The star will end in a supernova, a white dwarf, a dark hole: the emphatic negation of a star, a well so deep that light, not even the strength of desires can avoid to be sucked in for ever. But such a kind of catastrophy is still thousands of years away from us. Anyway, the candle burns in a similar way, surely with a much less dramatic and bombastic end. The wick burns immediately once lighted. It looks like as any matter that burns so easily, soon it will be just an ugly dark thread cold and inert. But the light flares high only for a second: soon the heat melts the wax, and the wick sucks the wax up, and in the end it is the wax that shines in flame: it is the wax that burns, not the wick. The wax permeates the wick, every thread and particle of the wick, the former disappears in the latter. But the wick's fire does not melt right away the wax, it is not that hot: warm enough for melting little by little the wax that will feed the wick, and the wax will fuel the wick's fire that will produce the right amount of heat, for, in its turn, keeping melting slowly the wax. A perfect cycle, once ignited, of slow passion through endless embrace and fire. Szaloncica's definition of love. The wick is black, the wax is red, thinks joyously Szaloncica.

Meditation on a candle (with Wandering Gata in the background). 1

Szaloncica usually has dinner in his Szalon with the only company of the light of a candle. So lonely he is that he feels impelled to dance for his gata. He thinks about actually doing it (and many times he certainly does it, anyway, after dinner, up the stairs, going to his bedroom, part of the Szalon, though: a Szalon in cica terminology has to be conceived in very general terms). He eats and thinks, under the light; sometimes enthralled by his very deep thoughts. We are trying to communicate the intricacies of those thoughts here, hopefully successfully respecting the nuances of the cica philosophy.

Candles fascinate Szaloncica. He half closes his eyes, and stares at the mystery of the candle. He smokes his pipe after dinner, but he does not leave the table. The candle still lights the Szalon and attracts his attention. He smokes again, sips his glass of dark beer and thinks.

It is not the first time: Szaloncica has been able to develop a nice corpus of thoughts lately about the candle and the mystery of its small and quiet self consumption. Tonight is different, the train of thoughts, as modern journalist would say, is different, because Wandering Gata, his gata, the gata he dances for, has been recently visiting the Szalon, the Ország, Szaloncicaország, for being precise. Now, tonight, this night, everything makes a little more sense, thinks Szaloncica. He smiles approvingly. You can tell when a cat smiles if you look attentively to his whiskers: lightly upwards.

Difference is, very simply, Gata wears red beret and Szaloncica favours dark clothes. Mundane wardrobe options, certainly. But nonetheless... :somehow months of thoughts coalesce.

The wick of a candle is black, true. It burns, it burns endlessly, its end is bright and red, but the wick never dies, the fire, the flame breaths through it; but only very slowly dies, that wick. Yes, everything dies, but the wick only very slowly. It burns brightly though, sometimes the flame is high and defiant, and illuminates fiercely the room. But somehow, in exchange, you would expect a high and quickly paid price for such a daring feat. And it is not the case. It is not the case. Here lies Szaloncica's fascination with candles. What makes the candle burn but not being consumed by her own fire?

Szaloncicaország says goodbye to Wandering Gata

Szaloncica at the window of his Szalon, sadly saying goodbye to Wandering Gata after her official visit to Szaloncicaország. (Source: The Daily Miau)

Wandering Gata's official visit to Szaloncicaország

The Sunday Miau includes in its latest edition a long illustrated article reporting the recent visit of Wandering Gata to Szaloncicaország. Wandering Gata was received at Miau Airport by Szaloncica himself, who performed the customary Cica dance in honour of such privileged and well loved allied of Szaloncicaország. The entire Ország celebrated the arrival with street parties.
During her visit Wandering Gata resided in Szaloncica's Tower, the Presidential Palace. There she witnessed sportive events of the highest category. Gatolimpics were opened with the celebration of a new edition of the 6 seconds marathon (won by Szaloncica) and a new and challenging competition in which Szaloncica won the gold medal for putting back on his glasses.
Wandering Gata visited extensively the Ország and adjacent territories. She showed a great interest in a curious variety of sheeps, who in addition to peacefully gracing are reknowned for the strange ability of uttering very long, sad and subservient sounds that the reporter transcribed as "Orrrr-bá-a-a-a-annn!".