by syaffolee

I may be losing my taste for milk, but I still like cheese. It’s like eating rubber. But after that initial bite, it loses its smoothness and begins to stick to the crown of your teeth. There’s a pungent and salty aroma that first assaults the nose and then the tongue. Sure there are different types of cheese. There’s the soft melts-in-your-mouth cheese that trickles down the gullet like an invading slime mold after it dissolves on the tongue. Then there’s the harder cheese that tries to masquerade as licorice. Some flake off like a piece of shedding talc. Others are gooey, dripping off the roof of the mouth, attempting to form stalactites.

Once, I imagined myself as a piece of cheese–one of those large cylindrical wheels you see in cartoons–bright orange and full of holes. I had managed to escape from a cheese shop from France and was rolling down the cobblestone paths of some quaint little village, stopping for no one–not mice, not men. I skittered across the Alps and rumbled down through dusty Spanish roads, occasionally jouncing from obstructive pebbles and stones. And finally I would tumble into the Atlantic Ocean, only to sink to the bottom. And for the rest of my existence I would be a moldy sponge with sea life darting merrily to and fro from my holes.

All cheese is fun. Except blue cheese. Especially the blue cheese they put in salad dressings. It looks like somebody hacked up some congealed spittle into a cup of ranch and then dumped in a tablespoon full of dye to make it look interesting.

Other stuff:
Why Won’t We Read the Manual? I almost always read the manual. I found out that if I asked anyone how something worked, they would look at me funny and refuse to tell me. But that doesn’t stop people from asking me how something works.
Fluxus Research: Opening and Closing Doors and Drawers. Once again, another example of the web being the meeting place of the bizarre and banal.
The Ginger People. Sure. Anthropomorphic ginger. Tell me when I wake up.