Those Plants Are Looking At Me Funny

It is empty, the fuel gauge which is charged with powering me. Not just the gauge. I feel empty inside as if it isn’t only that I haven’t eaten enough today but that an organ or two usually located in my thorax have been removed and are being stored somewhere offsite. Like when you go to the library and the book you want is in some storage warehouse affair, but it still comes up on the screen as though available, as though the forms you need to fill in to get access, and have some store manager go in, looking for your specific book, and he’s not a librarian (I’m picturing a him not a her) and it takes a while, when he has time, and he’ll have time when he bloody well says he’s got time, and that won’t be for a few days, and the whole process is tortuous and seems to never end. Has this analogy even made sense? Doubt it. Glad I never got that book out of storage – my fictional account of the trials involved in this slow, bureaucratic process sound nightmarish. I avoided paying the fictional fee as well, and I was about to say, just before I cut me off, that the fee was sizable and just a tad out of proportion of what a university scholar ought to be paying when he (I’m picturing me, and I’m a he) wants to consult a source he’s come across in a bibliography. Phew, fictional bullet dodged … in 1999 or something.


Conspiracy is a collective noun referring to ravens, and I think it is wasted. There should be more conspiracies. Of the collective noun variety, anyway – there’s a conspiracy of African violets all looking at me right now, muttering to each other, and judging me, no doubt. Not sure I like it. They’re a bit cocky. Slightly too proud, and beginning to take on airs. Just quietly, they are very pretty, in a masculine, statue of an ancient Greek athlete kind of way – but don’t tell them that. (African violets don’t appear to have a collective noun. Maybe they can share with ravens?)


I quite like a murder of crows, but that’s almost a cliché. If you know of no other collective noun, you might know of that one.


Not sure what I’m talking about here.


The African violets are posturing, as if they would like photographs taken. Arrogance is filling the room. Golly! One way of thinking positively about this – an affirmation, if you will – if you’re a bit of a wanker, or professional athlete, and it is rare that the two are mutually exclusive – your head needs to be up your arse to be good at this sort profession – one way, as I say, to consider the preening behaviour of these African violets is that Laetitia and I (somewhat luckily) have chosen a very good place to put the plants and they are loving it. So we’ve done well.


Another way to think of it is that they have developed teeth and begun gnashing them, and they want to kill us all.

Published in: on December 1, 2010 at 6:53 pm  Leave a Comment  

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