Tonight, I eat Peanuts.
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(recorded 2/14/05 @ 9:31:49 PM)
I sit in this Michigan-blue chair, ergonomically designed to hurt my back and cause me to hunch as I do my postulating and debating. I'm surrounded by my greatest friends: Peanuts, a santa holding a ginger bread house on a mug that keeps telling me to be merry below its red rim and above its checkered velvet-blue and black. A pencil lays forlorn wishing I would accept his apology for his comments the night before about my lower-case b shape. And most importantly, I sit staring at my true adulterous lover, coffee.
My computer is threatening to riot. It keeps asking for minimum wage and for benefits and a pension. I stare, I feel kind of sick. Should the walls be talking to me? should these things around me be reprimanding me? Probably. I'm frightened, hiding behind a thin, plasterboard door painted with the semblance of oak.
Mint rushes through the room, drawing my form, it's T shoulders and b stomach away from this seat. But Dante is so beautiful, I want to sit here and press myself to the breast of the Inferno and dissolve into a new pilgrim.
Draw, Draw, Draw, but I don't have anything to draw upon. I want to draw. Art is calling me, it wants me to step away from school and descend into the world of my glasses. Their frame is so simple and fragile, bronze and lean, like I should be; I'm more a putrid brown and rather thick where meat doesn't count.
Beat, Beat, Click; wait, should my pulse be doing that? that clicking sound... Nope, that's the clock, wait, I don't have a clock. Click, Click. Ok, my sanity is dripping out of my water bottle, with its narrow, white squirthead, but it's so empty I can't get anything out but drops. Click, Click. I feel like there should be some crocodile to hunt me now.
"Hello, may I join you for some tea?" grawrs the crocodile.
"Sure, but I only have orange tea" I timidly respond, looking back to indeed see a crocodile holding a tea glass and saucer, crackers and lemon in his other claw. He's outfitted in a rather stunning robin-shell blue suit with a pink and purple pokadotted bowtie.
"I'm sorry, where are my manners? I must have left them with that turtle, I have failed to introduce myself, I'm Dominicus," he curtly and staggeringly replies.
"No need, allow me. I'm ... Do beg my pardon, I've misplaced my name, but I must make this tea. Would you care for some bread?"
"No, I must go" Click, click as his tapdance shoes guide him from my roommates unmade bed.
I'm realizing maybe tonight I've lost my head and that the salt from the roasted peanuts has made my mouth and tongue lose their eloquence. But where can I find it, since I need it for tomorrow night! Slap, slap, my hands go upon my cheeks as I try to force myself to remember. But I remember that I put them in my shoes for safe keeping and I left those while I was running in the puddle next to the Birch tree with its white trunk striking against the sepia of this indian summer. I wonder why everyone today was wearing red and pink? Oh well, I think it's time for me to eat peanuts and go to bed.
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