in bucatarie...

frightful damp cold weather out there, fish odour and mushroomy undertones in here... business management related disputes that contrive to induce a fragrant dissention of the profoundly incompetent underlings. so here starts the 6 PM dinner ritual, evidently backed up by a severe discontent in primal misjudgement of character. this all seems so atrociously still, like a picture-perfect statement that this should be heavily imprinted in memory.

intermission

few hours later, same location, different posture...liver thawing and slowly decomposing into maroonish meaty grains in a pile of blood-shot water. and amongst potatoe peelings, strange as it may seem, while quaffing down cherry soda, in the backround of the hitting keyboard, i find myself in the midst of a sort of quarelling "family" of dearest beings - so baffeling the concept of living with two guys: they fight, they argue, the discuss, they're logical and yet unawares of themselves, they accept and never ask questions, they inferr the obvious, but in a subtle way, they... are, somewhat, carefree.

i so wish you wouldn't stirr so madly, like life depended on chicken livers...like change is possible and doctors could show up in the most unusual places. never underestimate, never disregard, never adhere to a premise you don't intend to live up to.