You say potato, I say potato
Some days you have to embrace the spud
It’s worth saying before I get into it that I think the humble Potato is marvelous. It might be a little unfashionable, but - second to a cheese toastie - there aren’t many things that can lift ones spirits better than a bag of chips/dauphinouse/roastie.
You may have noticed my usual flurry of posts has somewhat stopped. Because I’m having a bit of a potato month.
“I had to come all the way from the highway and byways of Tallahassee, Florida to Motor City, Detroit, to find my true love. If you gave me a million years to ponder, I would never have guessed that true romance and Detroit would ever go together. And ‘till this day, the events that followed all still seem like a distant dream. But the dream was real and was to change our lives forever. I kept asking Clarence why our world seemed to be collapsing, and things seemed to be getting so sh*tty. And he’d say, ‘that’s the way it goes, but don’t forget, it goes the other way too.’ That’s the way romance is, usually, that’s the way it goes, but every once in a while, it goes the other way too.”
So, I am having a dip in motivation, so instead of going out and looking for it, I waited for it to come to me. So, here it is.
In the toilet of the coffee shop I am currently in, there is a sign saying, “Please leave this the way you’d wish to find it.” I can’t see it without dreaming of the perfect toilet, and here it is (some of this is inspired by my coffee colleague Paul).
In my perfect toilet, I am greeted by Robert Smith from The Cure. We have a light chat about things (today, I asked if he has a favourite brand of lipstick, which he does: Urban Decay, which he likes because people think it’s gothy but actually - like him - it’s not). He then opens the door for me and leaves me to my business.
What lies beyond the door is mostly mood-dependent, but today, I am transported to a forested glade overlooking a lake framed by craggy Tolkeinesk mountains. On the lake shore is a bench, which, through a process of reverse osmosis, as I sit on it it removes my need for the loo. After a few minutes, Rob pops in and asks if I’m ok. Sometimes, he plays me a little song, but often, he sits next to me on the bench, and we look at the view in silence. Sometimes, Rob has a roll-up which he always offers to me, and I always politely decline. It’s become our ‘thing’ and it gently bonds us. Today, there are a pair of eagles flitting around. Rob makes a joke about Hotel California (such a lovely place). We chuckle and then return to blissful silence.
Once I’ve finished, I walk to the lake and wash my hands. A salmon named Clive hands me a bar of soap (he makes it as a side gig; they are always in the shape of tins of salmon. He thinks this is funny in a macabre way. Rob approves). I create a luxurious lather, then rinse off. Strangely, the water is neither warm nor cold. It is ethereal. Once finished, I hold my hands in the air, and a small dragon called Dyson dries them with his hot breath. Dyson is a bit worried about things today because he’s realised that the process by which he creates fire is occluded to him. I tell him not to worry about such things and focus on what he knows. He seems somewhat satisfied.
As I turn back to the door (which stands alone in the glade), Rob gives me a double ‘guns’ salute and then a “sorry, I panicked” look. I forgive his social awkwardness, as I always do. He opens the door for me, and I am back in the cafe only two seconds after I left it. In my perfect toilet, there are no such worries about taking too long.
Oh, and the lock works.
I suppose, by accident, I’ve described why I have always struggled to follow simple instructions - they tend not to be simple. I know they mean, “Don’t wee on the floor, and if you do, clean it up”, - but I can’t help thinking about other things
Peace, love and understanding
Michael