Thursday, July 2, 2009

slow cooked goose

There are such lovely gleaming pots bubbling on my stove today, and I appear to have locked myself out of the kitchen. I can see them, I can even smell their lovely delicious cooking smells, I just can’t make them cook faster, and that drives me absolutely insane. Tomorrow is so inviting, like rich soup on a cold day, and today is the dried out crust of bread your husband put in the fridge a week and a half ago. What would you choose?

What is the point of a bright and glittery world title grinning future if the present is a dried up old crack addict sleeping on the pavement? There are a few things I don’t understand on a base level, one of which is life, another is reality, I don’t believe I ever will just “get” these things, I understand statistics, bad jokes and Quentin Tarantino, but life, acceptance and baking are completely beyond me.

How do normal people come to terms with these things, with their general uselessness, I want to punch something, absorb the knowledge of the universe through osmosis alone, and run around naked, screaming my head off and then I look around me at the calm, the limitation accepting, the brave and am ashamed of my ridiculous inner tantrum. Perhaps I should give up on trying to accept that things don’t just happen instantaneously because I thought them and try to accept that this frustrates me, a step in the right direction at least?

What is the pipeline really and how does one turn on the tap?

No comments: