There was definitely something ‘off’ about the butter.
She could tell even before she unwrapped it from the cloudy paper encasing it. At some point during its stay in the overstocked fridge, the butter had turned to a light jaundiced brown color and was emanating a sour sulfur-ish smell. As she pulled the wrapping off of the stick, she could feel the foul grease seeping into her fingertips.
For a moment, she debated whether it was still usable. After all, the Visitors would probably be exhausted and likely wouldn’t be interested in tasting anything more than strong whiskey like most other evenings. She even thought briefly about skipping the butter completely, but as an honest woman, she felt that would be cheating somehow.
It didn’t really matter, though. It was her duty to present the Visitors with an assortment of homemade delicacies before every sunset, as stated in the contract. And she was a faithful servant.
Its damp, cold, and dreary in my part of the world today. I do believe it is the perfect day to be sitting inside doing laundry and baking. Which is exactly what I am doing right now (or, taking a break from doing). And just in case you are interested, here are the tunes I have blasting through my laptop speakers.
1. Will Do – TV On The Radio
2. Pagan Poetry – Bjork
3. Lights Out – Sonic Youth
4. Into My Arms – Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
5. The Last High – The Dandy Warhols
6. St. Peter’s Cathedral – Death Cab for Cutie
7. Pancho Villa – Sun Kil Moon
8. If Only Tonight We Could Sleep – The Cure
9. The Book of Love – The Magnetic Fields
10. All Mine – Portishead
Ohh, I think this just might be a perfect day.
There really isn’t much more to say than this today. I probably am a bit odd. But I think every one is, at least a little bit. Especially when no one else is watching. That’s when we all let our freak flags fly. So let’s celebrate it, shall we?
I am currently babysitting a 2 1/2 year old and am drowning in Spongebob Squarepants videos and Cheetos dust. I love the kid (and we are having a blast, honestly), but I can only watch so many technicolor cartoons before my eyes start to ache. Charles Mingus, thank you for providing this five minutes of solace.
flesh touches flesh
brushing across lips
into the creases
and over the scars