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Ode to Pepper Pot/Imperial...Missing You
Sep 14, 2011
Tonight I left the hotel
Broken, shattered, falling to pieces
Chop Suey not in my belly
But in my head
System of Down
Repeated as volume levels
Rise. Higher. Up.
I could feel the clouds
The weight of steep roads ahead
Appear, through thick beads if air.
I slept through most of the day.
I've come to accept the randomness
In......balance, sorry, correction. IMM...balance. Mentally.
Bipolar, no polar...bears. North poles....manic.
I have been highly dissatisfied by most of the items I've been digesting.
Here, in Holland.
Makes me want to reach for a portable stove and make my hotel room a kitchen.
I've had glimmers of taste trickle graciously through my days, but they aren't plenty.
As I felt the soup of depression closing in...
Another spark enters.
Like a spoon that stirs my ingredients and makes my life, yummy again.
Thru, temporary shine of "newness" and unknown connection/reason.
(More on that thru Facebook. Haha only friends get the deep dished info)
After my Kung Fu class, I'm almost new again.
My mind was taken out, released and shakened.
Removing life’s impurities.
It’s exactly why I force myself to at least make it to my Wednesday class. It's smaller, more intimate and "peaceful." It helps pull me out from under the wave of disconnection keeping me present, in reality.
Which is great cuz when I dissolve, I become alcoholic in nature and quickly evaporate losing myself in numbness, blanking out in thought.
I wanted KFC from the moment I stepped on my tram to class.
I’ve come NOT to eat KFC anywhere else than Freeport (Bahamas)
when the sporadic rare urge arises
…as nowhere else compares…
When class ended, and as I RAN to catch a tram that had already departed, I sat.
Sat on a railing and waited.
Waited paralyzed, in thought on whether or not the KFC I saw in passing, was still open after 10pm.
I fought myself from asking the ticket man, if he knew if KFC was open.
I wanted to refrain from looking like a fried chicken crackhead searching for her next hit of grease.
But, I did it. And he knew not of which I spoke.
However, a young Dutch man with an American English verse told me of one to look out for - which we'd pass first - so I could see if it was open before I got off.
And again, I ran.
(as the tram left it a ways behind once it stopped)
Ran to catch it before it "possibly" closed at 11pm.
I arrived, 10 mins before closing.
It's in my bag now.
I told the girl behind the counter that:
(In the most Bahamian of English)
“I only like dat JUICY DARK meat”
I hope she didn’t think that was a come on.
All I wanted was some fried chicken man.
Nothing drowned in sauce.
Simple. Fried. Bones, skin and all.....
And this, is when I miss you most.
Trying to find a way, to face my late night urges, without having my 24 access to your greatness.
xoxo Cara xoxo
BTW, I don’t know if it was because the last think I ate was at 12PM…
It was GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!
Finger LICKIN’ baby!
(Maybe you aren’t such a culinary lost cause, after all)
(Bahamians, it’s safe. COME visit!)
And yeah, I know this ain't a DAMN ode...
But I thought of the title, then just started writing
and this is what came out.