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Archive for August, 2012

Breaking your fast.

It begins, I suppose, with a certain distaste in the mouth. Soon, a possibly alarming raising of the heartbeat, followed by a flushing of the face quickly followed by the sensation that all blood is running out of your head and the idea that ice cubes have been placed on your cheeks. You begin to notice the flatness of your footsteps, and the way gravity makes all the matter in your arms go downwards.

Before long the air will start to move slowly over your face, and without doubt those arms you thought about earlier with resemble pendulums pulling down on your shoulders. You’ll walk up the driveway and when you go to open the gate will notice all the parts that make up the latch and wonder how on earth anyone came up with it. Maybe it was the same guy who found out how to carve the stone the steps you’re walking down. You open the back door and go to lock it behind you but the key chain somehow ended up being balanced on top of the key rather than swinging below it, a flare for anyone’s deductive abilities to pick up on. In the kitchen you’ll notice how much you love things made of wood, before being reminded of that nasty taste in the mouth you had earlier, so it’s time to fetch yourself a drink. Drink. “Driiiin-ck” What a weird fuckin’ word. There’s nothing to have but water and diluting orange, double strength of course. The water will be run for a few minutes, to make it as cold as possible. You pour the juice, dilute with water. It’s weak but there’s a definite sense that this isn’t whole. It’s water with something in it, not flavoured water. Still, it’s better than nothing. And you feel happy about that.

There’s a sitcom just started on TV, it’s about IT workers, you relate with them and feel the closest thing you can to hatred right now as a result. God damn though, every movement is simply perfection of comedy in every frame. But you can’t stay here, the an upstairs to be seen. How close the wall is in the hallway after you open the door is remarkable. It’s amazing you could even turn the corner to go upstairs. You wonder how long it took someone to invent them. Probably that guy who first carved them, you remember. For some reason you still have on all the things you wore at work, now you’ll have to dismantle yourself. You detach the lanyard with the name badge from around your neck, take out the phone, then the belt, the card and cash, then the change hanging down the bottom. The hoodie flies off next, and you notice how tight and hot you boots are, so one leg goes up on the foot bar of the bed, the laces undone and the boots pulled apart, followed by the other. You take the boots off and feel how nice it is to have your feet on a cold floor. Jeans soon followed, naturally.

You debate what you should go and enjoy the shit out of now. Bursts of creativity race through your mind, and you go decide to write a blog post, your mind outpacing your fingers tenfold, all the best words and idea screaming up before falling back into the either, what you soon realise as more mundane fare reigning supreme. There are sausages in the fridge having said that.

 

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