PICTURE, IF YOU WILL, a near-empty tube of toothpaste.
It's flat, but not yet infinitely flat.
You know within that tube is one more usable demi-wad of paste, and if you can just steamroller that sucker a little tighter -- maybe use the toothbrush as a press to wrestle forth that pea-sized half serving you need and BY GOD will have even if it costs you a pulled hamstring and the last vestige of what once was pride but now now is just world-weary resignation -- you can stand tall and proud in the knowledge that you have well and truly finished that tube.
You hop up and down and hammer away and roll the damned tube -- it's mocking you, it's actually mocking you -- back and forth on the edge of the bathroom countertop, determined and hell-bent to claim that minty-fresh prize, no matter what.
And then you glance up and see your bleary eyed reflection in the mirror: your pale tummy bulging a tad more than you want to admit, and your hair looking like someone slapped you with a wet frying pan, and you become painfully shamefully aware of the stupefying futility of your efforts, and you realize you've spent 14 minutes in hand to hand combat with a tube of Colgate even while a fresh fat undented tube of same sits right there, laughing.
This is how the writing is going for me these days.
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B
just another online spittoon
5 comments:
Ditto...
Then sit down and write "I got nuthing" for at least thirty minutes.
Do not stop. But you are allowed to change the line with whatever comes to your mind.
Try to focus on at least one little strange thing you come up with, if any, and see where it leads you.
Freely chain thoughts, do not be afraid of where they bring you. Do not fear to move past the threshold, and enter the untold side of your brain.
Look for spots of unconnected memories, fragments. Dig for more, freely, with no hurry, as if you were shopping for a gift in the gigantic warehouse of your [lost, unconnected, rejected, old, gone] memories.
See what hidden treasure is there.
At times I happen to find entire crates of zipped memories from my childhood.
I am fraid to open them, because they are like Pandora's boxes. Once opened I'm not sure I can store them away again.
M.
Been there. The worst part is finding out you were actually battling a tube of Preparation H.
B,
It's fortunate for you that at least one of your buddies has the tactical savoir faire, the technical capability and the motivation to manage the near-empty toothpaste tube dilemna. As the alpha-male in your so-called league of "friends", I'm not above mentoring what I consider a "promising" albeit not yet fully polished novitiate such as yourself.
In my experience, I've seen that what can't be accomplished with finesse and grace can be overcome with a more direct approach. Unfortunately in your case where a "wife", "children", and "uninsured belongs" may be involved, explosives and firepower are probably inappropriate. Therefore, a simple, if not spectacularly bold alternative in the form of surgery with a pair of tin snips is called for. Make a slightly diagonal cut near the base (side away from the outlet). This will leave an angled cut in the tube from which you can tear open the tube and scrape away enough toothpaste for at least two more uses. You will most certainly cut your fingers accomplishing this. Real men will ignore this. Otherwise, apply first aid.
Next time I'll reveal my first aid secret for cuts using nothing more than duct tape, a staple gun and Super Glue.
kindly,
D.
Are you having fun?
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