Frights Flushed
A terrible thing has happened, but not the most terrible thing.
My Yo La Tengo CD has influenza. I could hear the heart beating as one, but now the sugarcube skips, that incredibly undulating bass line. I will find the devil in the disc and expel it with Latin, razors and kindness.
Yesterday at work I walked down the hallway to the bathrooms and found new white-paper signs on each the men’s and women’s doors, indicating in bold black print which was which. Even for the dim, I thought the doors were well-marked before: pink sign with a stick figure in a skirt on the women’s door, blue sign with a naked stick figure on the men’s door. Now, in case of confusion, there are two signs on each door.
I walked in. The first stall was dirty, so I went to the other one. On the back of each door was a new sign, white paper, bold black print: Please flush when finished.
I guess what seems obvious to me isn’t necessarily obvious to others. Lesson learned.
What the most terrible thing would be eludes me. Each time something terrible happens I’m pretty sure there is something more terrible that could happen. The same goes for when something ecstatic happens. How anticlimactic life would be if that weren’t the case. Might as well assume it’s so.
I guess the most terrible thing would be if there nothing more terrible to happen after the present terrible thing.
Please pray for the sugarcube. Melons, of two shades, are in the air.
My Yo La Tengo CD has influenza. I could hear the heart beating as one, but now the sugarcube skips, that incredibly undulating bass line. I will find the devil in the disc and expel it with Latin, razors and kindness.
Yesterday at work I walked down the hallway to the bathrooms and found new white-paper signs on each the men’s and women’s doors, indicating in bold black print which was which. Even for the dim, I thought the doors were well-marked before: pink sign with a stick figure in a skirt on the women’s door, blue sign with a naked stick figure on the men’s door. Now, in case of confusion, there are two signs on each door.
I walked in. The first stall was dirty, so I went to the other one. On the back of each door was a new sign, white paper, bold black print: Please flush when finished.
I guess what seems obvious to me isn’t necessarily obvious to others. Lesson learned.
What the most terrible thing would be eludes me. Each time something terrible happens I’m pretty sure there is something more terrible that could happen. The same goes for when something ecstatic happens. How anticlimactic life would be if that weren’t the case. Might as well assume it’s so.
I guess the most terrible thing would be if there nothing more terrible to happen after the present terrible thing.
Please pray for the sugarcube. Melons, of two shades, are in the air.
2 Comments:
You're georgous. I really think you're georgous. Let me just say you're georgous.
Sugarcubes go well with tea. I like cream. That can be ecstacy, but you're right, something more ecstatic, like lemonade, would be better.
georgous?
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