60. Purple prose, Bridge-style~
Sep. 7th, 2009 10:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
handy_psychicIt amazes me how my brain, so complex and full of nooks and crannies and gray matter and various thoughts all merging together into one complicated stream running throughout my consciousness, can be tuned to one simple idea upon waking.
Oh, sure, I awoke with much on my mind, as I so often do, because it is filled with thoughts of my loved ones, thoughts of my situation in life, thoughts of the Sphere we live in and all of its randomness, and the causes and logic behind it- not that there CAN be much logic behind a place called Edensphere, I mean, really, considering how much weird stuff happens here, our clothes chaging and our houses turning into Legos and the Wilderness changing into at least two completely different places per 30 days, and of course there's the whole being born naked from a cocoon with no memories thing, well I wouldn't say no memories because we have our dreams except our dreams aren't necessarily memories, are they? I guess for some of us they are but for some of us they aren't...
... where was I? I began with talking about my brain and now I'm on Edensphere and the complete illogicalness of it even though I try to find logic where there is none.
Ah, yes. That single thought I became fixated on this morining. Upon waking, I took a look at myself, clad in pyjamas of soft blue fabric imprinted with pieces of brown toast, and was taken with an incessant craving for that wonderful yet simple meal consisting of toasted bread. Thereafter, I threw off my sheets of purest azure and foresty green, pushed myself out of my comfortable futon, slipped my feet into slippers of emerald green, and proceeded to walk into the kitchen of the apartment I share with Sky and myself. Sky, faithful Guard that he is, was of course already long gone. It does not help that I slept until such a late hour, of course, but he exemplifies "early to bed, early to rise". Logan Sparky McRuffles the Second, that fine but ever-glitchy robotic dog of my own creation, was playing ball with himself by tossing it against the wall, catching it, then repeating that method and causing quite a clatter in the process, making me wonder how on Earth I managed to stay asleep and dreaming during such a racket.
I then proceeded to find the bag of bread we keep stored as a part of our food supply, open it, and take a few pieces of bread in my hands, both clad in pieces of stitched-together black leather. I then inserted those soft pieces of baked dough into the toaster, pressed the button, and went on to find the butter, cinnamon and sugar. My preference for toppings on my tasty toast tends to vary by the day; sometimes I want chicken toast, that wonderful invention of toast covered with seasoning that is flavored like a certain type of poulty; sometimes my desires are more tuned toward the simple and classic butter; but today my taste buds were inclined to crave the bit of sweetness and tastiness that only the combination of cinnamon and sugar can provide.
I waited eagerly, my stomach beginning to make gurgly and groany noises from hunger, tapping my begloved hands on the sturdy countertop, before the process of heating the bread and causing it to turn brown and crispy was finally complete and the toast popped up out of the device. Swiftly, before the heat left it and the toast was too cool to melt butter, I took a knife and applied butter from the small container and then proceeded to coat all of the pieces of toasted bread with a fine dusting of the cinnamon and sugar.
Preparation of my meal complete, I went over to the table in our small living/dining area, pulled back a chair, seated myself, and scooted back in, pondering what to do with the rest of my day. After being focused on one simple thought, that of the preparation of breakfast, that most important first meal of the day which gives me a lot of energy (at least until lunch comes around), my thoughts immediately became complex and nuanced again.
There are ways in which my life and my well-being can yet be improved, in spite of the efforts I have already been making to do so, and I have spent much time pondering these ways over the past week or so. There is a decision I am close to making, but it still requires more thinking, which I shall now do, once I change from my toast-printed pyjamas into something more acceptable for going out into the public.
[[TL;DR translation: I had cinnamonsugar toast for breakfast and now I have a lot of thinking to do.]]
Oh, sure, I awoke with much on my mind, as I so often do, because it is filled with thoughts of my loved ones, thoughts of my situation in life, thoughts of the Sphere we live in and all of its randomness, and the causes and logic behind it- not that there CAN be much logic behind a place called Edensphere, I mean, really, considering how much weird stuff happens here, our clothes chaging and our houses turning into Legos and the Wilderness changing into at least two completely different places per 30 days, and of course there's the whole being born naked from a cocoon with no memories thing, well I wouldn't say no memories because we have our dreams except our dreams aren't necessarily memories, are they? I guess for some of us they are but for some of us they aren't...
... where was I? I began with talking about my brain and now I'm on Edensphere and the complete illogicalness of it even though I try to find logic where there is none.
Ah, yes. That single thought I became fixated on this morining. Upon waking, I took a look at myself, clad in pyjamas of soft blue fabric imprinted with pieces of brown toast, and was taken with an incessant craving for that wonderful yet simple meal consisting of toasted bread. Thereafter, I threw off my sheets of purest azure and foresty green, pushed myself out of my comfortable futon, slipped my feet into slippers of emerald green, and proceeded to walk into the kitchen of the apartment I share with Sky and myself. Sky, faithful Guard that he is, was of course already long gone. It does not help that I slept until such a late hour, of course, but he exemplifies "early to bed, early to rise". Logan Sparky McRuffles the Second, that fine but ever-glitchy robotic dog of my own creation, was playing ball with himself by tossing it against the wall, catching it, then repeating that method and causing quite a clatter in the process, making me wonder how on Earth I managed to stay asleep and dreaming during such a racket.
I then proceeded to find the bag of bread we keep stored as a part of our food supply, open it, and take a few pieces of bread in my hands, both clad in pieces of stitched-together black leather. I then inserted those soft pieces of baked dough into the toaster, pressed the button, and went on to find the butter, cinnamon and sugar. My preference for toppings on my tasty toast tends to vary by the day; sometimes I want chicken toast, that wonderful invention of toast covered with seasoning that is flavored like a certain type of poulty; sometimes my desires are more tuned toward the simple and classic butter; but today my taste buds were inclined to crave the bit of sweetness and tastiness that only the combination of cinnamon and sugar can provide.
I waited eagerly, my stomach beginning to make gurgly and groany noises from hunger, tapping my begloved hands on the sturdy countertop, before the process of heating the bread and causing it to turn brown and crispy was finally complete and the toast popped up out of the device. Swiftly, before the heat left it and the toast was too cool to melt butter, I took a knife and applied butter from the small container and then proceeded to coat all of the pieces of toasted bread with a fine dusting of the cinnamon and sugar.
Preparation of my meal complete, I went over to the table in our small living/dining area, pulled back a chair, seated myself, and scooted back in, pondering what to do with the rest of my day. After being focused on one simple thought, that of the preparation of breakfast, that most important first meal of the day which gives me a lot of energy (at least until lunch comes around), my thoughts immediately became complex and nuanced again.
There are ways in which my life and my well-being can yet be improved, in spite of the efforts I have already been making to do so, and I have spent much time pondering these ways over the past week or so. There is a decision I am close to making, but it still requires more thinking, which I shall now do, once I change from my toast-printed pyjamas into something more acceptable for going out into the public.
[[TL;DR translation: I had cinnamonsugar toast for breakfast and now I have a lot of thinking to do.]]
