(brackets)

Hey.

(You may have noticed my recent trend in using brackets and italicised font at the end of my post to give you updates and snippets of information. I’m kinda enjoying it.)

(In other news, it’s the vote over Scotland’s independence today. For those of you who don’t know and haven’t guessed from that summary, Scotland is voting on whether it should become independent from England.
I’m glad that I don’t have to vote.)

(You know, if you’re in a baking mood, I’m pretty sure that chocolate fridge cake is the easiest cake it’s possible to make. I made it with my friend to celebrate International Chocolate Day and it has literally four steps: crush biscuits, melt chocolate, mix, chill. It tastes great, too.)

(I’m really liking this brackets-italics thing. Trust me, it’s different from writing in non-italics-without-brackets. It has a different tone, I’m telling you. Well, ish.)

(And, as always, I shall finish by letting you know that my computer is still out of action. And it will be until further notice, so I might have to stop leaving you these notes.)

(That makes me sad.)

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The Post in Which I Return

I feel like I’m supposed to write a dramatic and heartfelt post, now, after coming pretty close to giving up on my blog.

However, I can’t really think of anything interesting right now other than that if you swim with your head upside down in a swimming pool, then it looks like you’re swimming on a liquid mirror (I have been swimming twice in as many days). It’s beautiful. No-one else seems to share this, though. I recommend that if you go swimming for you to try it, and observe.

My posts might be erratic for the next few weeks whilst I try to breathe some life into this blog. Please bear with me, and if you have any advice then it would be greatly appreciated.

Thoughts Following Pasta Carbonara

In the same vein as my post entitled Thoughts Following Kedgeree, I cooked myself spaghetti carbonara for lunch.

Now, you first need to know my attitude to cooking. I am not a ‘we must follow the recipe down to the last milligram’ kinda person. I am the kind of person who is like ‘let’s put brown sugar in these cookies because it tastes nicer’ or, in the case of today, ‘we have no cream to make carbonara with, so let’s just substitute it for some milk and Philadelphia’. I am a believer in throwing it all in the bowl and frying it up.

Bacon Pasta cooking Carbonara mixture
Anyway, I made myself pasta carbonara, because I was craving it. Pasta carbonara is usually disappointingly tasteless without a whole lot of salt, pepper and parsley, but it tasted pretty good this time. Maybe it was the Philadelphia (or maybe it’s just because I wanted it so much).

Pasta carbonara

Again, I posed the question: can you take an artistic picture of spaghetti carbonara? The answer is, again, no.

Passing Time in a Dark Place [writing]

Today, I feel like writing. This is loosely based off that other short story that I posted, entitled The After. It goes along the same theme: you can only see with your eyes shut. I like this theme. It’s cool. If you have anything to say about it, then shoot me a comment-slash-email.
Anyway, I’ll probably end up editing this loads later but I’ll write for the moment. Today, I feel like writing.
It’s by no means perfect, but I hope you enjoy anyhow.
Passing Time in a Dark Place

The darkness covers me in its cloak. It consumes everything like a beast. It tracks down the light and kills it.
I don’t really notice this. It just looks like black the whole time to me.
This is one of the things that I know: I am a complete person physically. I have ten fingers and ten toes, two eyes, a nose, a mouth and – probably –  a brain. I know for certain, because I can feel these parts of me, with the exception of my brain (but if I’m thinking about all this then I’m fairly sure have a brain). I have beaten the darkness in this way, and that is a good thing. It feels good to beat the darkness.
I close my eyes. It doesn’t look anything different but by now I know how to tell when my eyes are open and when they are not. It feels different. Also, I can just poke my eye. If it’s shut, it’s shut. If it isn’t, then I either wince or I end up in a lot of pain. Hopefully the first one.
Anyway, I shut my eyes. The darkness stays behind my eyelids for a while before retreating, and when it does I see metal framework stretching above and around me. Today I’m with Lise.
I live the lives of three different people, you see. The first person Madeleine, and she lives in Aberdeen. The second is Nicholas, and he lives in Tokyo. The third person is Lise, and she lives in a space station.
A space station? you ask, Why is a girl living on a space station?
Now, that is one question I would really like to know the answer to, but I honestly have no idea. I experience what Lise does and nothing more, except when she’s tired and I can make her do things. She never says or writes anything down, not like in the films Maddie watches where all the actors say their thoughts out loud. Lise just thinks them. Also, people don’t talk to themselves. Talking to yourself is the first since of madness, my dad would say. Or rather, one of my dads. You’ll have to excuse me when I refer to other people in familiar ways like that, since they’re not actually any relation of mine. It all becomes a bit confusing after a while. Especially since I haven’t actually met any of these people in real, proper life.
Whilst I’m contemplating this, an alarm goes off in the space station. Lise gets up from her foamy mattress and pokes around for a while, being careful not to trip over any of the bits and bobs on the floor (it’s not just a part of the station, it’s also all her stuff; Lise is not a tidy person).
Lise goes into the kitchen and discovers it’s the washing machine. A red light is flashing insistently out at her from the display screen. She presses the alarm button and the noise stops. Everything is quiet once again.
If I were Lise – which I sort of am, but I’d rather not get into all of that – I would now put the washing machine on its drying cycle. Lise doesn’t, though, and goes back to her bedroom.
I didn’t use to see Lise a lot. I’ve been seeing her a lot more frequently in recent times. I used to stay with Maddie for the majority of my time, but now it’s mostly just Nicholas and Lise. Things change. I don’t know why. They just do.
Lise is going to run out of air, soon. She’ll also run out of things like food and clean water, but her main problem is air. You can survive without food for days, but only a short handful of minutes without air. Are you seeing the problem? Yes, I think you are.

 

Thoughts Following Kedgeree

This is the kedgeree I had for dinner. I like kedgeree – it tastes like you imagine it, and it smells like it tastes, and it also smells like you imagine it. It doesn’t disappoint.

Also, today I posed the question: can you take an artistic picture of kedgeree?

Image

The answer is no.

If you’ve never tried kedgeree, then it’s an anglo-Indian dish made with smoked fish, boiled egg, rice, curry powder and parsley. Unless you can’t eat it, then I recommend it!