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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/443061-If-dishes-had-dings-my-pigs-feet-would-be-frying
Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #982524
Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation.
#443061 added July 25, 2006 at 6:16pm
Restrictions: None
If dishes had dings my pig's feet would be frying
5,560 views

*Idea*           SUMMER: 13 Kalimat (25 July)          *Idea*



*Snow1* *Snow2* *Snow3* Think cool *Cool*!


Weather where I am: 77º on its way to 98º.
Weather in Port Townsend, Washington: 52º.
Weather in Dunedin, New Zealand: 40º at 2 a.m.


I'm always getting ideas. Some work, most don't, but that's my life. Part of the problem is completing the idea to its glorious or bitter end. Either way it would be done. So ... I have ideas ...

I'm eating squash-blossom cottage-cheesy potatoes. An idea that I'm enjoying and not sharing! The squash is setting on. So is the pumpkin. And the eggplant. And the peppers. And the tomatoes. It's summer, what can I say?

Written last night when I was far too tired to think:

Invisible ink

White on white,
this poem is a snowbird in a blizzard.

It sings white nights of summer
when the sun hangs under
the horizon reluctant
to shut its eyes and go to sleep.

It weeps in winter
waiting for the right to melt
its ice is clear and crystal.

What appears upon this page is writ in white
like snow on snow
at first dawn's light
it disappears.
[163.268]

And then I sketched:

In the root cellar of the disenfranchised

Can it.

Seal the venom.

No expiration date is needed.

Heed the labels:
"Do not open"
"Can never be handled with care"

Beware! Better to forget it.
Leave it there
to fester for a generation or more.
More is better.
It grows bitter with age.

Its rage is sealed tight.
Be careful!
Never expose it to the light.
Still, when least expected
it will explode some moon lit night
at the dawning of new rage.
[163.269]

There has been ongoing jokes on site hear about chickens, but what about ducks? As in archgargoyle!

His humor is vicious. He runs this contest called "Invalid Item (now closed until next time) where the contestants choose an object, then HE, the Almighty Duck, chooses an emotion. I chose 'compost heap'. Today he announced that emotion was LUST! Vicious, purely vicious. Now if you think that I'm going to have the weeds and worms seeking out each other in the compost heap ... you betcha! Considering the poem I posted yesterday that shouldn't be a problem (and that poem wasn't all fantasy either ... and I actually toned it down!). Consider the other poor contestants who have to write about lust and 1. cadaver, 2. salad fork, 3. entrails, 4. peanut butter, 5. plastic flamingo. I could do the plastic flamingo *Bigsmile*.

It would be approriate to wish a 7th Happy Anniversary to both:
archgargoyle and
Love is a Mommy (no foolin)

Oh ... and consider entering this other contest (just opened):
 Invalid Item 
This item number is not valid.
#1134552 by Not Available.


IMAGES

Customers filing in; the t.v. in the far corner ignored; the smell of dinner: onion, carrots, pork and peas, eggs and rice; crisp fortune cookie.

Yellow clover, bees, butterflies and moths.

Bathroom at the Classic Gourmet (July 19th):

Green comet bottle; yellow mop bucket; orange power cord; red soap dispenser; my red shirt reflected in the mirror; red shop vac; purple 409 bottle; the blue and yellow walls (the color of the flag of Sweden); an indistinctive hum.



FROM MY JOURNAL

Now ... what about me? I don't always write much here because I'm also writing in my hand written journal to a friend. Lots of writing when added up ...

So here's an edited version of what I wrote yesterday (page 1,042-3):

Missed a couple phone calls. Thought maybe one was Brendan, but it wasn't. Called him. He's 'enjoying' life in Pittsburgh. He loves poking at me about the weather. It was 93º today here. No mention this time about moving back. I have qualms about that. He could get a job in a week, but he and the streets have seen some tough times.

So who called? I keep waiting to hear from Kevin, from Peter, from you. If dishes had dings my pig's feet would be frying. No one knows how much I want to hear from youse guys.

The other call was from Nada. Her voice is so much like my cousin Judith's that I'm immediately put at ease. She also has a genuine kindness and concern that comes thru her voice. She's a deligfht.

Did a bit of gardening, mostly watering. Always more purple leafed sweet potato. Took more cuttings from downtown. What's nice about sweet potato is that it loves the heat (I don't). If a were a vegetable, I'd probably be a rutabaga (our Swedish roots ...)

Had california roll and inari again. No unagi. Bought 1% milk flavored with 'a hint of orange'. Not bad when it is ice cold. I'm not a fan of white colored water normally. I have a system ... take the second last bus, buy what I must and catch the last bus 40 minutes later. It beats a 30 minute trudge in the heat.

I have no energy this time of year. As a child I read a lot. 10 years ago you could've found me in my garden in the evenings past the gloaming. I'd work until I literally couldn't see. Not here. July should be watering at worst, harvest at best. April and May are the months for planting. September and October is football! (If you must ask about August ... think dust to dust ...)

I keep forgetting to take my pill. In that way I'm quite feline. Ever see a cat spit out a pill? I chew them and even then I'm not a happy harpy. Well, I found the pill in my pant's pocket where I put it this morning. Washed it down with the rest of the milk. Avapro is bitter at best. Gotta get some water.

© Copyright 2006 Kåre Enga in Montana (UN: enga at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Kåre Enga in Montana has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/443061-If-dishes-had-dings-my-pigs-feet-would-be-frying