I read this week that someone "has a robust theoretical writing practice." Not
me, guv, I just write:
In a week we have gone from waiting for summer to arrive to that season when plants get throttled
by the hardening clay and those unhardies which have been in the ground less than a year quickly
shrivel and die. From above, little brown bits--to use a technical term--seeds, possibly, are
blown down and swirl into drifts here and there. Then, as if often the case, nature overdoes
things, ups the ante with wind and sticks. "Bloody hell," one says to oneself, trying to
go along with what stops just short of bullying, "steady on, nay-chah..., you could put
someone's eye out."
We have an opening in the toast-making department. Required skills include
advanced bread selection, spatial visioning, time-based color competencies.
You take unto you an leafy bit. And you take unto you an nother one. And you
wash them fair careful, removing slugs and ye little squiggly things. And then
you take an large casserole and some garlic and onions and carrots and wine and
you set it aside to wait upon the appointed hour. Meanwhile, you feed said
greens to an rabbit. Which you have kept handy. When a sufficiency of minutes
and months has elapsed...you eat the rabbit.
David Ritchie,
Portland,
Oregon------------------------------------------------------------------
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