Addictions

Friday morning approaching noon.

The end of the beginning of the end of the week.

Rations are running low.

Specifically in the gum provisions.

My salvation and ultimate destruction may be the 6-pop-pack of nicorette on the counter. After all, it's designed to curb cravings and force a quit of your favorite vice. But, I can't help question the ethics behind satiating my gum addiction with a nicotine infusion. There is, however, an upside to this. I could kick this chewing habit and pick up one which is wholly social. (and cool)

The debate will rage on in my head until withdrawal takes over, under the banshee cries of revolution fueled by my new best friend, nicorette.

That is one ending to my story, another is in fact rooted in consumerism (buy more!). A third option is in self-control, but to make the distinction between self-denial and empowerment seems too lofty for a sleepy Friday morning.

____________________________

My hair is short. It can no longer reach down and tickle my shoulders. It's confined to a new life suspended and compressed by gravity. It's hard to imagine the hair-styles in a gravity-free land.

This weekend is my last before a dive right back into the fancy land of France. No connection whatsoever to gravity-free-hair-land-o-lakes.

Mold

I once was told not to eat moldy bread even if the piece you want to eat has no mold but the loaf does. Mold can be smaller than your eyes allow. But in unfortunate times of bread destitution and relative dereliction, what can a girl do? I don't have a microwave oven for zapping of the invisible-visible microbes.

All I have is camembert and marmite.

These two seem like quite the power couple for combating the potential dangers of eating moldy bread. It should be noted, that this bread is not the invisibly moldy kind. No, this mold is green and virulent and seems to perpetuate as I eat my way through the loaf. I suppose that, time, is a factor in this, but including time seems vain.

So I'll put the moldy side face-down on the grill pan and toast it, to really bring out the flavors of tiny colonies and put in question my vegetarian agenda. Smother the fuzz in marmite and camembert to cut off its air supply, bring a quick death to a passive passerby.

Only vigilant waiting and watching of my body will reveal the victor.

If I'm found patchy and green, generally fuzzy and seeking out the damp warmth of a cupboard, then mark it in the books; 1 point for team moldy bread, 0 points for team tough.

National Poetry Day

Coughers and some cats

linger, lurking behind me.

Mucus on my neck.

It's national poetry day. This is the best I can do while still recounting my day. Perhaps a sonnet is better suited to detail my agony of a hangover, but the inspiration is wanting.

Allowed

Lowly

Lionness

Yeasted

Scornful

Opiate-like

Nudistic

This is poem two, which I invite us all to do.

Perhaps I'll have another go. Another goo.

Albatross

Linking

Ladylike

Youths

Sadistically

Organizing

Nastiness

That is meant to tell a story of what happens when you put on yer albatross and forget to take it off before going clubbing with a gang of yobs.

I really don't know how to emphasize the importance of always removing yer sea creatures, including those who fly over the sea, before trying to grind against a tin man. Perhaps, the story is better told from the point of view of a toothless child because life must be different when your teeth are falling out in your mouth and fairies are following you and stealing.

We ain't got no pictures this time around.

sorry.

Makeover

In a burst of creative energy, we sortired the blue tak and the walls and filled the empty spaces.

In addition, we have added one green yucca plant to our household, whom remains unnamed at this moment. We are open to suggestions for this spiky fella.

Decisions are easier to make when the choices are set before you? I guess it doesn't really matter if you believe in predestination.

Ok now for the pictures.

It's like street art on the inside.

A certain male curator selected these few pieces

and this one too

Madonna can be quite scary when sortiring from the chambre in the middle of the night

just another day on the escalator

x-tina!

Right: 'the revolution must continue'

Left: 'Pressure little children into silence'

Sunset in Triptych