Litlets

October 20, 2009

“Living on Lunesta” Journal, 10-19-2009: Milk

Filed under: General,Litlets,Oneirica,Prose — crcb @ 7:22 pm
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(Some nights when I need to take Lunesta, I swallow the pill, pluck a random word from a handy book, grab my pen, and start writing as the drug takes effect.)

Milk does not make an impression. You probably don’t remember the best glass of milk you ever had, though you may remember the worst, especially if it got stuck between your teeth. People might brag about Mom’s cooking, but nobody says “My mother gave the best milk!” Nobody you’d want to know, anyway.

Humanity has been defined as “the animal that makes boxes.” Equally characteristic is our relationship with milk. All mammals drink milk when young. I don’t know of any species besides humans (and those domesticated by us, like cats) that drink it as adults, or that regularly drink the milk of other species. We turn milk into various solid and semi-solid forms, with or without flavoring: butter, cheese, yogurt, ice cream. We consume it cold or hot. We use it in coffee and in cocktails. Human: the animal that refuses to be weaned.

But there’s something innocent in this, something Edenic, even if the factory farms that result are evil. In the Bible, Canaan is described as a land flowing with milk and honey. My father, who was a preacher, concluded that these were the healthiest foods you could eat. My doctor, who is a doctor, disagrees.

Milk and honey are the foods of nature’s abundance. No creature is killed to gather them, and they are renewed. Milk is the fruit beneath the fur.

I’ve gone from whole milk to 2%, and I’m learning to tolerate skim. I get egg-beaters at IHOP, too, which are indistinguishable from synthetic eggs. On weekends or special occasions I treat myself to half-and-half in my coffee or some pizza.

It might be interesting to wean myself by way of experiment, to give up dairy altogether including substitutes. If I do I should keep a dairy diary. (Bet nobody’s come up with that one before!)

My thoughts are getting confused with dreams now. I wonder if this is a way to do differently, in class or watching numbers. any way as I tried to [two illegible words] the politics wasn’t really greed it was’t [illegible] a [illegible]

[drawing of a half-shadowed face]
The silent partner is angry & has much to say
time to listen to
the men? who stole the fairy nector
royal jelly to those with names

[drawing of a humanoid head, furry, with pointy ears]
he was not as smooth nor as stylish as he thought, but he gave freely of his mate’s milk

Did we say to quit looking or was that you? the last ollie-ollie-sfree. Put a quarter in milk wont get bigger yo [illegible] a operators ver[illegible] t[illegible]one.

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September 4, 2009

One Thing

Filed under: Litlets,Writing — crcb @ 8:28 pm
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One Thing

I remember the bedroom I shared with my brothers (I was the youngest, clothes out of fashion and never quite fitting): bunk beds and a cot, a footlocker full of books, the dresser with one drawer crammed with paperbacks, stacks of magazines — Evergreen, Popular Science, and camouflaged caches of Playboy and National Lampoon; the floor, yellow linoleum flecked with gray, peeling next to the heat vent and showing the next layer, red and black (spatters of hardwood here and there); the doorless closet with the sloped ceiling, the south window unscreened. One summer night when I was ten, both brothers gone I don’t know where, I heard a rustling under the bed and turned on the light. As the chain clinked against the bulb, a bat flew out and perched on a green felt hat hung on the wall. I crept from the room and slept on the couch. In the morning, the bat was gone. I never mentioned it to anybody. This was one thing I didn’t have to share.

I remember the bedroom I shared with my brothers (I was the youngest, clothes out of fashion and never quite fitting): bunk beds and a cot, a footlocker full of books, the dresser with one drawer crammed with paperbacks, stacks of magazines -- Evergreen, Popular Science, and camouflaged caches of Playboy and National Lampoon; the floor, yellow linoleum flecked with gray, peeling next to the heat vent and showing the next layer, red and black (spatters of hardwood here and there); the doorless closet with the sloped ceiling; the south window unscreened. One summer night when I was ten, both brothers gone I don't know where, I heard a rustling under the bed and turned on the light. As the chain clinked against the bulb, a bat flew out and perched on a green felt hat hung on the wall. I crept from the room and slept on the couch. The bat was gone in the morning. I don't think I ever told anyone about it. This was one thing I didn't have to share.

August 23, 2009

After SETI

Filed under: Litlets,Poetry,Prose,Writing — crcb @ 8:32 pm
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After SETI

We communicated with the extra-terrestrials in writing at first. When we failed to understand them, they wrote bigger.

A million years ago, they were pets to another species. Hence their habit of curling up at our ambassadors’ feet in the middle of negotiations.

The winds have died out altogether on their world, and they pollinate wildflowers by hand. It’s their favorite form of sex. Such unnatural acts disgust us, we explained. Now that the bees and butterflies are gone, we’ve bred thumb-sized dogs that live on nectar.

Many churches disbanded when we discovered the aliens were Christians. Jesus had betrayed us with another planet!

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