scruta

Either you are sorting it out, or you are full of it.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Ode to My Dead Plant

My Dead Plant on Ziyang Lu

Because of an airconditioner, our contrivances to try and make things more comfortable, you died.

It was hot, and my girlfriend wasn’t having it.

It kind’ve pissed me off.

I had so hoped that you and I could have been good friends, but alas, you gone and kicked it.

Sent off to the Garden of Eden, aboreum uptopia, or whatever place it is that plants are supposed to go mythically, where it’s always sunny and raining at the same time.

Thanks, a lot Sap. Or is it Flora?

Regardless of your gender, I have decided to throw you in the trash can.

It has now occurred to me that I, being human, rather like the ideas of life, of love, and of goodness,

but damn if I’m not attracted to just letting everything around me go to hell.

Just looking into the undifferentiated meaninglessness that sits on the edge of the psyche and saying, well, fuck it.  At least now and then.

You, my leafed friend, were the unfortunate victim of this tendency.

This could be a chemical problem. One that you could consult your doctor about. There are a slew of new medicines available to treat this condition called… ahem.

I’ve always thought of it as an inability to avoid the abyss that sits on the edge of my psyche. I really can’t blame myself. It’s actually framed quite nicely:

Like the water of a giant backyard swimming pool, with beautiful people slanging super-straight labcoat-white teeth in designer bathingsuits all laughing and playing. Death, looking uber-stylish with a lei slung around his sickle is lying on a chaise drinking maitai after maitai extolling the virtues of taking a dip. Most people just treat him like an idiot drunkard who crashed the party, but he scares the hell out of me. I spend the entire party staring into the abyss while all my friends score.

I must say there are benefits to looking into the abyss of one’s self.

Weird shit just pops out of there:

like leprechaunic fantasies of riding around in jetplanes with oil barons, deciding the fate of a small island in Dubai shaped like an ostrich with a pot of gold in the middle.

***

Oil Baron

So I really thought the pot of gold in the middle was over the top.

Ferret

No, it couldn’t be. I mean, how else are you supposed to swim Scrooge McDuck style?

Oil Barron

Well, unfortunately it’ll be too hot for the time being. You know…

Ferret

Oh yeah, the desert.

Oil Baron

Yeah, that. But I’m working on importing a giant cooling system to blast continually cold air on it so that I can swim in the gold pile in the middle of my ostrich shaped ocean of sand.

Ferret

Sounds sweet.

Oil Baron

Yeah.

Ferret

Hey, isn’t gold heavy?

Oil Baron

It’s damn heavy. That’s why I’ve got to wear the special suit when I swim. It’s designed to ionize the gold or something like that. I don’t really understand how it works, but apparently they’ve been doing military testing with it for about three years now.

Ferret

Man, is there anything that oil can’t do?

Oil Baron

Make more of itself I’m afraid.

Ferret

Some say that’s a matter of contention.

Oil Baron

Come on, let’s not get carried away by fantasies.

Ferret

Sorry. What’s that plant over there in the corner doing?

Oil Baron

It’s supposed to offset my carbon footprint.

Ferret

It’s dead.

Oil Baron

Yeah. Well, it’s not working very well right now. I’m going to have to get someone to fix it.

***

It’s good to know that the world’s wealth isn’t going to waste… hopefully my plant didn’t either.

posted by ferret at 12:43 am  

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