Poem I

Small sips,
this glass must last
an hour.
My budget to maintain.

Great gulps
would former hold
my time.
A wallet loose like lips

tall talk
when beer breezes.
Seconds
drank down to entertain.

While former I’d get off my tits
I now just drink small sips.

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Short and Sharp

If I do say so myself.

How can I talk about everything that goes on here in a short post? How can I find the words to make the Difficult easy, the Ugly palatable, and the Joy effervescent?


Brevity.

Summer’s short teaching hours supply
Drinking making things disappear
Pleasure popping people’s pain.


Now onto the cooking segment.

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I have discovered, partially through my own experimentation and partially from watching others and hearing their advice, that eggs make a most excellent ingredient in most things. My mate Teddy advised it as a great addition to basic ramen, rendering the stuff almost nutritious. Through my own experimentation, I’ve found it makes an excellent dish to fry penne pasta in egg and add whatever you want to flavour it/bulk it up. Finally, I made a miracle happen by turning taco meat sufficient for only one shell into enough to make four, with the mere application of a couple eggs while refrying. Thanks, Eggs. Theggs.

On the weather report, it’s very hot and very humid. Autumn can not arrive soon enough. I love lounging in the sun as much as the next cat, but there comes a point where one tires of occasionally needing more than one shower in a day. Advice to any future Scots who travel abroad to teach (probably a very small subset of readers, but you never know), always remember that the month you travel in is in a different season than other months. If you arrive in late Winter, it will become Summer in 4 months. Pack accordingly. Our clothes are heavier than most.

Lastly, let’s look at the satisfaction metre: well, this bad boy had had it’s ups and downs, swings from 3 to 11, scraping 2 at one point, then 15 the next, but right now, it looks to be a steady 7. It’s been hard keeping it as high as that this month, owing to things I fancy are already public enough knowledge, but I maintain my standards. It’s always better to be optimistic, but veer towards actions that will make that into reality, rather than wallow in reality and let that particular swamp swallow you whole without giving it a good kick or two on the way down.

As long as I keep striving on with that motivation – I am happy.

A Log of Smells

it is morning and the air is crisp until tobacco smoke fills it and I once again break my stop. It’s happening more frequently, I need to find a new way.

I spray some Issey Miyake and all feels well. It is my trademark aftershave and has been for several years now. It recalls my brother, who bought it for me, as well as good memories of nights and days that I won’t forget.

Half 6, out the door. The air is crisp again, but tempered by dog shit, cigarette butt. I light anew.

Down into the metro. The smells are clean, as sanitising fluid on concrete should smell. The lady who normally greets me with ‘dobry dano, hezky den’ as she hands me a copy of the metro is not here today. I hope she is well. My nose is overtaken by the oil of he escalators, the engine of the metro.

A Coffee Shop. Int. Day. Freshly crushed coffee beans, hot milk, sugar caramelising as I drop a packet into mine. It is good. The lesson goes well.

Half 8, got a real hunger for chicken, head to my favourite fast food. But I wish I had more. At 8:43, I realise I left my passport at home.

 

 

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The Colonel Sends His Regards

 

Rush home, as fast as transport and my sizeable legs can carry me. Ignore smell. More important I arrive as on time as possible.

Arrived further out than I have gone before. More tobacco smell, but also some open grass. It’s good that in the middle of a business park they find space for something natural. Otherwise, we all might lose our minds.

Class finished for 5 hours, to the school. Spend a while drinking coffee, instant with a drop of cold water to minorly improve flavour, and reading stuff before afternoon cancels and I invite Maura out for a drink. Frothy, hoppy, flavourful Kozel before the tram home.

All is human bodily aroma and grey.

Back at the flat, say hi to a baby. Give up lift to baby’s parents until 1st floor, where I get in. The Father warns me it smells like someone who hasn’t washed for a week. Hearing him, I get in to a gust of disgusting dog odour.

The bouquet of the city.