05 October, 2010


Oatmeal 9/30/2010

Oatmeal warm on cold day’s.
Before a long frozen walk to work.
A small bit of joy, the tiniest speck of happiness in a gray cloud ridden frozen moment.

My lady friend and I will have ours with raisons, coconut, sunflower nut’s and soy milk. In a giant colorful bowl. There’s a room in the house that the plant’s love and so do we. Warm even in Winter we go there and watch the music of morning mingle with the scent of the oatmeal. When done right its smell reminds me of frosty cold mornings just before school or even better happy Saturday mornings with cartoons and Star Trek. Bringing me back to my childhood yet enjoyed even as an adult ‘Oatmeal’ it’s soft ring’s of grain and water fluffing out to fill a bright bowl. The consistency in your mouth is mildly erotic. It reminds one of the folds in a vagina soft, warm, wet with a just a hint of musk and sweetness. (Worlds of sweetness)
The feeling of well being that almost alway’s accompanies eating oatmeal is rapturous. Imagine sitting in a room with big windows, sunlight however gray it may be, plant’s, and the empty potential that is morning. Now fill that room till it’s busting at the seams with smiles and happiness, laughter, lounging and above all the scent of Oatmeal.

When made wrong it’s just miserable and impossible to eat. Kinda like glue, but more like mortar or shackle. Its taste and smell are as bad as the paste that little Jimmy made you eat back in grade school. (I’ll get him back someday you wait)
Have you ever burnt it? Maybe you decided to go and watch the weather channel or something but only for a second and suddenly the room was filling with smoke and the fire detectors were going off. Well there goes another pot because you can’t ever get that black off the bottom. Not to mention you’ll be smelling it for day’s. That dark, smokey, acrid scent that’ll make you open up all the windows and doors even in the dead of Winter with the wind blowing 20 below zero. If you’re like me and abhor a waste you’ll have tried to eat that burnt pit of goo only to find it’s mostly like eating a charcoal briquette.

It will never top the best experience with it though, so here’s to Oatmeal with all of it’s faces. Be it goo, or glory it’s here in my home always.
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