Thursday, April 24, 2008

No pee princess

Been feeling a bit like a frog in the bog lately.

Crotchety, sticky and green, and nursing a sneaking suspicion that the world is not bog shaped, entirely.

Possibilities are fast closing in, and the most alarming symptom is that my dreams have become calcified and porous, leaked through with the hollow stifling breathlessness of the gaps between realness and fantasy. Truly, shit curdling scary.

Last night my wings became tangled with imli chutney – in as far as something winglike can become entangled with something chutneylike. My mother captured the incontinent spill of my memory in an omelette and served it up to a passing fakir [how colonial is my half-core perception-processor, really?] who later forgot how to invoke a spell on banishing laziness.

And I could, from where I was hanging, see the fraying holes in my head.

It doesn’t help that my gut feels like a sewer pipe that has seen its best days, and would like nothing better than a small pension and a dry spell, but is rapidly losing its grip on reality and that bond which holds sewer pipe alloy molecules together as it burdens under the heaving prolificity of the big bum of fate.

I’ve also had enough of humorists who sound like Woody Allen. It's enormously depressing when people find it in their sick heads to raise laughs about deeply moving things that end with ‘ism’ or ‘isation’. God made American sitcoms for laughing at. The rest is all serious and businesslike – the stuff that Sunny Deol makes films about.

Also, I cannot pee through seven mattresses, which Terry Pratchett says is incontestable proof of royal lineage [and femininity.]

O woebegoneness.

14 comments:

B Ditty said...

I could use a good sitcom. My favorite one is ending this year! Ahh!

H said...

Damn. that is so super sucky, Ben.

B Ditty said...

almost forgot. Oooo, H! :)

H said...

Chorus: Ooooo Johnny!

NanNan said...

I hear your croaking,, my lovely frog in the b-l-og!! Not to say I completely understand the frog sounds, though I do relate to incontinence and crotchety! Your wings are most certainly not tangled my nost precious pee angel!!

NanNan said...

PS-- if Houseband reads this,, I've been knocking at his door, huffing and puffing,, but can't get in!!

NanNan said...

I must be the pee queen since I was sitting on the throne for six months-----

H said...

Darling Nannan! I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw THREE comments from you! You're BACK! yayayayay! I hope this time to stay. Please. I've missed you.

I mean I don't even know what Lexie and Austin look like anymore! They must be little adults now. [and Ben must've stopped farting etc...]

Houseband has been a stranger ever since he shut his blog down. Bad BOY! [if he's reading this.]

With a princess for a dawtah, how could you be any less than a Queen! ;-)

Sending you truckfulla love. And DON'T disappear again, PUHLEEEEESE!

Prude said...

I think terry missed mentioning that you need to be peeing continuously for 7 days to pee through 7 mattresses...it's all about interpretation you see and reading between the lines. I know I know some of us are so lazy we don't bother read all the lines themselves but that's why Terry Pratchett is famous.

I have a major bum fetish and this is the first time I've heard that fate has a big bum...Oh Thank you H only you can put it all across so succinctly! :-)

I still maintain you're the epitome of femininity especially since I read the post about the Sheikh.

H said...

Ah Prude, such a complimentimo! Thankeee darling!

But please, be a dear, jog this old cow's memory and tell us which post about a sheikh?

A bum fetish. Hmmmm. HMMM. HMMM HMMM HMMMMMMM. You're most welcome to the set that's choking up my gut.

So you're telling me you've done this before? 7 days? You, my dear, are making me insecure.

Lizza said...

My mother captured the incontinent spill of my memory in an omelette and served it up to a passing fakir [how colonial is my half-core perception-processor, really?] who later forgot how to invoke a spell on banishing laziness.

Priceless!

Find that fakir, please. I need the spell he can cast.

H said...

Too late my dear. He's forgotten. I tried too. That's how I found out really. Good thing he doesn't know why he can't remember.

rajiv said...

wooho-one does fly into strange places.

H said...

Woo hoo! Does one ever!