Wednesday, December 3, 2008

sorry guys. this is nonsensical and pertaining to nothing at all

not the topic and not the universe. Maybe to the army of flours built of cornstarch cylinders. Or the stuffed animals in a flat layer over the whole bed, with a comforter not quite cooked from the drier. or the mirror and the espresso maker found in the basement and the oversized toilet paper roll from the administrative bathroom.

The kittenMan will only drink water from my big soup pot. which i only learned today. he never drinks water, except on a rare occasion from the toilet (with relish), and always seems thirsty. so i guess i won't have soup for a while.

i, on the other hand, have a very discriminating taste in beverages, as i am spending the week a tea conoisseur. A differentiator between black bagged Twinings varieties. Yes, i do have Darjeeling. Here are my findings:
(a large feline is threatening to wage war on the flower army.)
Early Grey: smoky, liccorice-y. Wissotsky makes a tea that tastes like russia and emulates how train rides should be if eaten with sogged biscotti. this is the british take on russia. they have much pointier noses and less flesh in general.
Lady Grey: (using earl grey as a baseline. this order and the explanation of each could be shifted around the rotation being established, if only we inserted the stats for the new first) creamier, vanilliny. doesn't really use up any olfactory energy.
English Breakfast: sweeter, in a high fructose syruppy kind of way. purpler. oranger. much more seventies.
Irish Breakfast: very slow to steep. somehow hardier. leatherier once the flavor comes out. at first it is the john doe of teas.
and the Prince Wales is brewing now.

hmm. flours. flowers.

1 comment:

Barbara Lorraine said...

Here's the thing Mir. I know that, for the most part, you're not doing anything intentionally stylistic. For the most part, this is just how you write, how you think, how you process. For the most part. Even so. Your thought processes, to me, have always been very poetic, in the way that the spam poetry you once showed me was beautiful: often unintentional, but always surprising, almost accidentally crafted. The way you describe life, it's inherently you, and because if that it's genuine, which is why I find even your oddest ramblings to be worthwhile reads every time.

Best part of the whole post: Your Twinings catalog. I want more of your intentionality. I like it when you fill yourself with purpose.