Brain Bridges

I don't really know how brains work.

All I can think how to explain is there's like a part of my brain that knows what I should be doing, how to do it, the steps to take. There's a part of my brain that is fully competent and well-versed in life-related activities, and if this part of my brain could take control, I'm sure I'd be progressing swimmingly.

But I'm not.

I Like

I like listening to the radio in bed in the morning.

 I like eating breakfast with peanut butter and honey. I like rhyming and winter sunrises and  poetry  and mystery. I like cheeky eyes and dimples in grins, I like earrings and rainbows and butterflies. I like learning things  and doodling on skin. I like purple and green and pink and orange. I like reading the newspaper and speaking French. I like sarcasm, metaphors and innuendo. I like watching people and eavesdropping on conversations.  I like thinking and I like making other people think. I like bookshops and the countryside. I like taking pictures and asking questions. I like facts and lyrics and quotations; assonance, analogies and alliterations. I like writing letters and receiving packages. I like musicals and my pets. I like winning and I like flirting. I like apple juice and I like coconut oat cookies. I like walking barefooted and painting my nails. I like grapes and cake and dancing. I like showing off and dressing up and making friends. I like plaiting hair and drinking  tea. I like Canada and England and Paris and Rome. I like wearing eyeliner and buying clothes. I like horse chestnut trees, changing leaves and Cheddar cheese. I like holding babies and holding hands. I like autumn sunsets and ice-cream and waffles. 

 I like listening to music in bed at night. 

I like big butts and I cannot lie.

Flitterbox: Eels ~ I Like Birds

Fruit Cake

In Soviet Russia, cake consumes you. 

In a strange twist of Pavlovian conditioning, eating Christmas pudding now reminds me of my birthday. Six months ago, someone gave me a sweet and suspiciously sticky Soviet-style cake that if I was sensible and cautious, I probably wouldn't have tasted, because I'm not sure how much I could trust where it came from. But, hey, who am I to refuse free cake? So, I took that leap of faith, and settled down to a warm fruit-filled, cream-covered slab with a hot cup of tea on a sunny May afternoon, a calm moment amidst all the anxiety and trauma of my final examination season.

Sometimes, cake saves your life at the moments you least savour. 

Poppy Seeds

Today, I have been silent.

I am a horrific hoarder. I hug grudges for far longer than necessary. I harbour signals from ships that pass in the night, even though it's clear that boat is never going to rock up to the port. I keep feelings of people, of times gone by, locked up inside of me for what seems like an eternity. I also have a clay gargoyle I made when I was thirteen still sitting on my shelf, but that's a more tangible proof of the point. It's broken into several pieces and besides, I never was that good at art.

Today, I have remembered. 

Banana Pancakes

 The leaves are turning
yellow, like Bananas and
Cheddar and Sunshine.

I like bananas. I like them chopped on cereal; I like them dropped in my handbag; I like them dipped in custard. I like banoffee pie; banana milkshake and banana cake. I like peeling away the skin like it's a present and eating it as if I were a monkey.  I like the fact that they are yellow, since so few foods are and it contrasts nicely with my predilection for purple clothes and accessories. I like candles that are shaped like bananas and I have longed to receive a naked banana in the post.

I like bananas. So when someone told me to blog about them, I took to the suggestion with gusto (albeit with a slight delay), despite the fact that I suspect it was a throwaway sarky remark about my nonsense nature of my approach to writing...

Soupy Squash

Flitterbox: KT Tunstall ~ Fade Like A Shadow

Hai Yu

Flitterbox: Simon & Garfunkel ~ Sound of Silence