So many mattresses on the street. In the middle of the street, on the corners. Dumped, folded, crooked up and sat awkward. Each one a soul, maybe two, and then all change. Why do people obsess about changing the mattress? They’ll use the same sofa, same kitchen, same furniture. But change the mattress! So they go out on the street, the sign of rentiers. Life.
Hello. A brace of reviews, hold tight.
First up is Toad-Ally Snax Kanga Roos, which are chocolate coated pretzel nuggets that feature an interior butter pouch. Hopefully you can see the connection between the naming of the snack and the design: kangaroos, in the wild, have ‘pouches’. These particular ‘kanga roo snax’ have been tamed and filled with peanut butter goodness. Thus nature is subverted to the will of Man.
They are actually quite nice : inoffensive chocolate and crispy salt pretzel that is then overpowered by the sweet/salt umami of peanut butter. One or two is enough and then you feel a bit sick.
Also sampled was Kefir, now bottled and flavoured with (in this instance) ‘honey and mint’. Kefir is fermented milk, and it comes from the family that gives us lassi and so on. It’s an acquired taste, and this flavoured style is a bit like mango lassi – it’s lassi for people who would rather be drinking chocolate milk or some sort. So, its fine, but really, you might as well just have a honey mint yazoo as the pro-active bacteria in something this size isn’t really going to be hugely helpful, and no doubt food safety regulations mean anything halfway helpful has been neutered.
I enjoyed it, but that enjoyment was tempered with many conflicting feelings, much like you might summarize my entire life so far. I fear this is the path I am on until death, and after death, it will be too late to change.
I wrote a short poem about my
out of date Galaxy Cookie Crumble from WHSMITH in Coventry Station. I bought it for one pound, same as it costs IN DATE at Tescos and other leading supermarkets
Here are some pictures:
O Galaxy Cookie Crumble
How I love to eat you when my
On the slowpoke
London Midland train
from Coventry To London Euston.
Through darkening skies
And we cling to each other
Your pink foil and cookie pieces
out of date slightly stale structure
Coat my hunger
There is a rupture
For a few seconds — then I realise
I am alone and soon I will be dead
The vending machine here at the Westwood Centre for Teacher Education (Warwick University) is a real blast from the past. Some classics : Fry’s Peppermint Cream, a Nestlé Crunch bar, a row of Rio canned fruit juice. It appears to have been stocked completely at random by a British office worker. It also featured one of Walker’s use it or lose it campaign with new flavours. The lime here is weak and reedy – like a dilute cordial – and the pepper also weak and chemical-tinged. Let’s be honest : this is mass-produced food as chemical engineering, and it shows. Pleasant enough but it seeks to replace Salt and Vinegar – not a chance, buddy.
ਲਾਗਤ ਕੀ ਹੈ?
ਸਾਡੇ ਲਈ ਸੱਚ ਖਤਮ ਹੋ ਗਈ ਹੈ.
I picked these up from Sainsbury’s. L and I were wandering the aisles looking for novelty in consumer form, one of my favourite activities and something I find genuinely gratifying, if a little hollowed out. There is probably something wrong with me deep down, something unfulfilled (I always wanted to live by the sea; I also feel perhaps I could have been a sailor?). In any case these sugary snacks were chosen to fill the gaping wound that is modern urban life.
They are not good. Neither one thing or the other, it isn’t praline enough to be a smooth praline and the hazelnut overtones interfere with the artificial earthy peanut taste so beloved of fans of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. These pay homage to those vaulted kings of the luxury chocolate snack aisle, but in the same way that a long poo is an homage to a lovely meal. They don’t even have that little black bit of paper lining to make them seem posher than the Yorkie that you put down right before you picked this up.
Avoid these if you can.
Yacuum is reading a short
Text unpacking Corinthians 11:31,
Judge yourself, then you shall
Not be judged. The structures of
Law fall away in front of mirrors.
But he clutches a book in his
Sweaty hands. Sad eyes scan
A room full of smashed tiles,
Broken bottles but the smile
Remains across his lips.
Try and examine, ourselves,
By faith and fervour,
Feeling the truth out through
Frantic confession into a
Philosophy and vain deceit
Is the tradition of Man
But rejoice, for the way is clear.
Just by passing through here
It’s nearly midnight.