– i think the butter

has a thing against me. I don’t blame it. I don’t have any butter knives at present. The serrated edge cuts up both the bread and the spread. And I am talking too much, again. See? 😉  This morning, too, though that’s just me. Do you know what a mylar wrap is? Just incase you don’t, I will over-explain. It is the plastic wrap that you can put around a hardback book. The other day, I woke up feeling as if I were an air bubble, or a scrinkled-up inside dust-jacket suffocating beneath a poorly applied mylar wrap. Or maybe that I was squeezed into the middle of a burrito, surrounded by sour cream and lettuce. Waking up is hard to do. One day, I will wake up early and go swimming again. One day, I will wake up and walk out from under the beautiful trees that surround this place, and realise that the sun is shining. Oh, hold on . . . it’s Seattle. Anyway, you get the drift. My inner turmoil and I are like the word suggests, water and oil (inner turnoil?) – well, that would be rather good, wouldn’t it? At least we’d be separated. Maybe more like a serrated edged knife run over butter and bread, pulling up crumbs like a carpet pilling. The piling pilling. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Notes to self. Get a mattress that you do not sink into. Stop eating chocolate and caffeine things before you sleep. Get up and be tired, Goddamnit! You always (meaning me) feel better in the long run. Take the dog for a walk so he can piss on all the vines, and grasses, and very edges of county-ownded verges, and post boxes and bins to raise the ire of your neighbours. He much prefers pissing on those, actually, boxes and bins, not the neighbours. And the neighbours all own dogs, so they kind of understand the score. Which is what? Knife: 1, Butter: 0.

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2 Comments on “– i think the butter”

  1. someone somewhere Says:

    Oh, you just reminded me of the Tom Robbins/Seattle connection. A sign of my times that vague memories of grunge connections and Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan movies came more readily to mind. I’m on holidays, so the pot to your lazy morning kettle. Almost halfway through, and though mildly productive, I’m now past the endlessly-stretching-out-before-me phase. Boundless visions give way to calculations and compromise. So, holidays over in a sense. Though not so much as to
    force me out from under the doona before
    my daughter.

    • theheartbeatsoftly Says:

      It kind of works the opposite way, too. It’s now 12.49 a.m. and I know I was going to go to bed at 11pm. I hope you’re enjoying your holidays despite the perhaps dosages of procrastinator guilt they bring.


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