Monday, August 8, 2011

Monday, 5pm. Everything at Sixes and Sevens

      I’m bored. Rare for me. Recovering from a quite nasty infection which kept my physical activities at a painful (an understatement) minimum for over a month now. Drugs are definitely kicking in. Feeling better, but still officially “on leave.” I wanna go play. Something. Somewhere.

      Just finished reading “Metaphoric SilverBand,” a post from my favorite writer, Julie. If you have the inclination, check it out. It touched me on several levels. Maybe it’s the drugs. Yeah, I can tell myself that …

     Dear friend Malmesbury (if I may be so bold.) A White Castle slider purports to be a sandwich, square, which would fit comfortably in a teacup. It appears to suggest a foundation of a ground meat (of undisclosed origin) cooked with aged onion chips. This delicacy is then almost surgically inserted into a spongy bun lightly brushed with their trademark grease. To appreciate this treat fully, a most solemn ritual is required; rise early, work hard, only have a salad with perhaps a biscuit on the side for lunch. Skip the evening meal altogether. Instead, gather perhaps a half dozen close friends near and start drinking heavily just before the sun starts to set. (The time here is critical.) At somewhen between 3:30 and 4 in the morning, boldly invade your unsuspecting White Castle restaurant and DEMAND six sliders. With a little practice, you will be able to swallow each one without even a pretense of chewing. I guarantee, promise, and solemnly avow that manna from heaven could not possibly taste better! This will be followed by a few hours of unconsciousness (that you may claim as sleep if you wish.) Likely you won’t have any idea where you are when you wake, and be wrinkled both outside and in. You will most certainly be surprised that you had not died during the night, coupled with the fervent wish that you had.          

      I have acquired a new friend. I reviewed her in a play, and when I asked for cast pictures, discovered she had taken many of them. She is a truly remarkable photographer – every picture she takes is interesting and tells a story. I have introduced her to a local organization accustomed to promoting  the outrageously gifted. Unfortunately she is 15 and I am certainly old enough to be judged as having ulterior motives by people who don’t know me. A shame sometimes that life is the way it is. I feel cheated.

    Friday is our next performance of OF MICE AND MEN. The play is awesome! It took leaps during the last days of rehearsal, certainly beyond my initial concepts. I think that if I have a “talent” at all, it’s in casting truly gifted people, putting them on a stage, and then being wise enough to stay out of the way while they do what they do. (And, trust me, I’m not being modest. This happens too often to be coincidental.)

     So. Done now. I didn’t get to take my sprint around the neighborhood, but I’m learning to live with disappointment …



1 comment:

Views from Malmesbury said...

Yuk! I was glad I'd finished breakfast when I read this. So, on a par with faggots! And you may definitley be so bold mon ami.