shezakiller

"Object Watching" at the Kitchen Table

Something about the green glow from the vegetation outside the window is almost depressing. Mysterious, but unpromising all at once. Most people would think of glowing, green light as a cool, cheerful thing. But not right now. To me it is almost glaring, a nagging reminder that the day will go on, no matter how deeply I want to stop and take a moment to wallow in self-pity. I wish I were among the scattered newspapers...silent. Completely still, almost as if time had left them behind. Left them to drape pitifully over books and scattered notepads. To cascade off of the edge of the table as if they are wilting with the realization of their depressing and usually short, existance. Their job is to bring news, good and bad, but mostly the latter. And then they are discarded, or perhaps, if they are so lucky, used as crapping paper for small puppydogs.

The telephone is turned away, face down as if weeping. A telephone is a thing taken for granted. They are not given enough credit for the importance of their existance. People simply talk at them. Breathe on them, and then cast them aside, forgetting about them until they need someone to talk at again.

Looking around at objects on a kitchen table is kind of like people watching at the mall, isn't it? Each object has a sort of personality. The newspapers, for example, could be easily compared to the homeless guy, bumbling about aimlessly, begging for change in his drunken, droopy hopelessness. The telephone would be the lonely girl in the far corner of the food court, whose presence is not known until she cries out.

And then there's the little bottle of expensive perfume, standing tall and regal at the side of the table, much like that untouchable girl who everyone notices and desires. But nobody ever gets her, because she sincerely believes that she is too good for any of us. Now just because she thinks she's too good for everyone else doesn't mean she doesn't enjoy all the attention she gets. Why else would she make a point of wearing revealing clothes and tattooing the word "Sinful" across her lower back in fancy lettering?

And then there's the snearing, punk rocker nail clippers cackling behind her because he just got done tying her shoelaces together. This character has got some major issues. I mean, how would you feel if you were forced to take someone's grimy toenails between your teeth and bite them off for a living?

The water bottle stands stout and down-to-earth. I look at him and I think he needs a power tie. His presence is plain and bland, yet that of an important businessman who is counted on by everyone to always be there. After all, life could not go on without him! This is especially true for the waving, flamboyant bouquet of flowers who follows desperately behind him while a tall, broad shouldered bodyguard of a beer bottle bars her way. The beer bottle is studly and desirable, if in fact completely unnecessary...and maybe even a little arrogant...
Just a journal entry...
I really have gone mad...