Tag Archives: salad

Brautigan Stew

“I’m in a dream, right?” I said to Richard as he was boiling his clothes in the iron kettle in the back yard of his front property. I often have dreams and know they are dreams while I am dreaming them. They call it ‘Lucid’. Richard calls it ‘Reality Biting’, then goes on a rampage about how “we are all brainwashed into believing that it is wrong to do this”, and cites examples of times when man could have used a good “kick in the ass” having chosen the wrong thing to do instead.

What gets me, is that I knew I was dreaming, yet I continued to let it play out. As I said, Richard was boiling his clothes and what he was using as ‘detergent’ was what blew my mind and made me consciously speak that questioning statement.

There the two of us were in his back/front yard, boiling clothes, then Richard added rice to the watered work clothes, but that wasn’t all. He generously added chicken stock, fat ‘n’ all, plus a touch of dehydrated vegetables (corn, carrots and sweet baby peas). Tasting spoonful by spoonful before getting the right mixture. When it tasted right, he then dumped in a gallon of kerosene and continued stirring, but no longer tasting the concoction.

I can recall that I backed away when I saw that red container in his hands. I backed far enough away, so not to become a victim in what I assumed would be a laundry explosion. I was also far enough away from ground zero to be able to run for the hose, which wasn’t on it’s perch, so I became a raving maniac trying to find it. But like I said, I was assuming that back lot to the front yard would be ablaze and I was winded just from frantically looking for a hose that wasn’t where it was kept.

As the story unfolded, it was getting to be about lunch time and I was hungry, not for soup (that would have just been weird), I wanted a full-course meal with salad, side dishes and of course, I wanted dessert. Richard was just as hungry, so we went inside the house to the kitchen, where there were piles of mounds of work clothes, dirty, smelly and awaiting their turn in the kettle. “How are we supposed to chop the greens and cook the food? There’s no room in here!”, I loudly yelled as I punched his right arm. And Richard, being of the Brautigan Clan and also being a man with many clever secrets up his sleeves, just looked at me, shook his head and walked into another room, where he picked-up the telephone and ordered our meal to be delivered. He didn’t want to unattend his brew.

In the meantime of waiting the delivery, we both went outside, he to his boiling clothes and me to put the hose back where it belongs.

How did I know this was a dream and not anything but one? Richard is dead, since 1984 and I live on the right side of the continent, Richard never travelled to the east coast. So chances are, we would never have met, let alone eaten together.

-dld 12.21.10_________________________

ThinkingTen -Take it Away, Tuesday: I’m in a dream, right?

Jeepers! Peepers and Cedar Ponds, Oh My!

The stresses of this past week were mounting, Headaches had become a constant throbbing that Lorraine knew had to be corrected. If she avoided caring for herself, her health, any longer, she may need to be hospitalized. She hated that smell, hated the poking and proding. She just hated the thought of a ‘hospital’, but she hated more,the thought of working, at least where she was at.


Lorraine decided a walk in the woods would be good for her. The Pinelands Nature Reserve was about two miles from her home, so to clear her head, lose her thoughts and sort out what is was that had her in a state of fear and confusion, she made plans.


Friday night, she put on a Pink Floyd album and made a spinach salad, loaded with nuts, artichoke hearts, olives and anything else that she had in her kitchen to give her a little ‘get up’ to her go!. She put it in a Tupperware bowl, then fell asleep to the hauntings of Dark Side of The Moon.


At 6am she awoke, it was cool and dewy. Fog hugged the grass, low and thick, she thought it was fitting, for that is how she imaginied her brain to be – engulfed and clashing with reality. She told herself that a nice hike through the woods would remedy her ails, so she placed her salad in her red backpack, along with some plastic baggies, a notepad, pen and her MP3 player and got into her car.


Shortly after parking at Collier’s Mills, the sun was already clearing that heavy air. Lorraine took this as a good sign. Listening to her Voice, she navigated the paths with ease, making notes along the way – Skunk Cabbage, assorted dragon and damselflies and the find of the day, the Hyla Andersonii, or Pine Barrens Treefrog, which was becoming more endangered as the years went by. These are the things that give pleasure to Lorraine and she could tell that she was becoming more astute and clearer in her thoughts just from the day’s events.


After finding a collection of treasures, Lorraine noticed that darkness was approaching. Time had slid by her and for the first time in more than a week, she was feeling good. Maybe it was the smell of cedar bogs, or maybe it was the quiet, but Lorraine knew, deep inside that working for a law firm wasn’t for her. She needed to make a change, and soon, for she felt that the stress was evil to her spirit. Wildlife; however, made her really feel as though she were alive. Before she got back to her car, she took a sidetrack path and walked to the Ranger’s Station where she picked up an application for employment.

-dld november18, 2010

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The Plot Thickens, Thursday: A red backpack

Now It’s Only A Writing Tablet

too many tables
to find words splattered
like pasta sauce on fresh linen

it always looks as though
we had been laughingtalk and eating
our own words
before swallowing self pride
and combating your prejudice
to get to the beef of a situation gone so very bad

so many tables
where lies were tossed, not unlike
salad slung from forks dripping
and now undressed
the cutting of carcasses, to bare bones
and salty flesh
of wounded dreams

exchanging sour grapes
insinuating gripes
i beg you to be excused from me,
while i am trying to compse my meal of thoughts

i am sorry
but this was the last attempt
to shine my plate, my defense

i honour myself
the heroiene
while at the dinner table

that is when I knew our table setting
needed a busboy
and the table needed replacing, since you hacksawed it’s legs

~dld october 11, 2010
T10, prompt = at the dinner table