Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Love Lunacy and the S.O.B.

Believe me. I've still got enough taco fixings to make a combination plate, my migration path still leads me around - not over- the cuckoo's nest, and my levies are not yet leaking philosophical fantasies to Wilson the volleyball...

But, yes, I'm sharing an expectation-expounded moment of over-the-top, thesbianesque therapy with a sweetly-fragranced orange blossom.

And, I'm not embarrassed to admit it.

(... actually, I wanted to Tchaikovsky-style blogesize about a local lad named Leslie who tried to woo me away from my artist love - who was pretending to be a Croation patriot - .... T'woulda been a touching tale of a gallant, lost soul, pawning plumbing skills for rip-tide loneliness redemption in front of the neighborhood internet gaming abyss as fake foreign accents crescendoed, and humour was drowned in soul-scabbing empathy...
BUT..., instead I find myself sitting on the porch, chatting about love with a fruit flower...)

Scented Orange Blossom (S.O.B.): -c, you are acting unnaturally silly, grinning at guileless absurdities, devouring potty praise, laughing and lactating with arguably immature fluency... What's up with you? Did you swallow a peyote button with your pad thai or a sprig of dandelion with your wine?

-c: No, no, my dear scented orange blossom, I'm merely hosting a tea party for Senor Happiness, sharing Argentinian mate with Honeymoon Harry and skipping a little rope with Simion Smiles-a-lot (you know..., the neglected knight of the round table who was written out of King Arthur's court after committing not-so-noble acts with the celebratory feast's poultry products.)

S.O.B.: I see. But, -c, are you quite certain you've not let a few marbles trickle out through the cranial drain?

-c: No, I assure you- I'm as sane as a Twinkie-defensing, infant pteradactile murderess before trial.

S.O.B.: Then..., why are you Cheshire-cat interfacing with a fallen orange blossom?

-c: Hmmph... What would a bile-less bloom like yourself know about LOVE anyway?!

Man... I wish I would have read the fine print when signing up for this Cliche Love Gym...

I mean, who in their right mind would agree to a contract that read:
"I invite everyone to question my sanity. And, I agree to take full legal and emotional responsibility for any possible, incurred conversations with verbose citrus casks??!

C'mon- anyone who did that would just be finger-plucking ass-ininity!

(... we here at Up the Creek are currently experiencing technological tributaries due to aberrational planetary allignment and mis-stacked Leggos... but, we promise to return to regular programming as quickly as possible. Please be patient!)


frustratedwriter said...

sounds like love to me! congrats! Oh, squash the blossom. It'll learn not to talk back after a good squashing.

dingobear said...

Awesome, -c.

Cap'n Rich said...

AWWW heck...:(

Dunzo said...

"finger plucking ass infinity"

interesting...very interesting...

kyokoshell said...

i like this channel!

ok, i like your every channel, but this is one of my favorites

-c said...

frustrated- Yeah, some blossoms just need to be put in their place!

dingobear & cap'n rich- ..blushed recognition...(I guess I need one of those red-cheeked smiley faces right about now)

dunzo- I was actually thinking of a playful toying with the word "asinine", but "ass infinity" has even more gluteous potential!

kyokoshell- thanks! It's my favorite channel to enjoy, but a most distracting channel to be a creator of! Maybe I'll leave you to the poetry-writing of this channel :)