Mustard is amazing stuff. Uh oh. I realized I just got on here to say "Mustard is amazing stuff."
I think there might be something wrong with that. No, not wrong;
maybe just too revealing about where my mind's wonder and ponder
level is at.
I was drifting off into mustard land.
There was a mustard field by the house I was born in. Right down at the corner.
Wonder and ponder are awful close, but they sure don't sound the same. Try to make ponder sound like wonder, and it gets hard. Like pushing together two magnets.
Where did mustard grow? Who started it first?
Restaurant, I mean Fast Food, mustard, is pretty scary. To me. It's the color. Big yello gallon jars, like H-Bombs. They look just like H-Bombs. (I've handled a lot of them.)
There were trees on my street, and I used to look at the sky a lot. When interesting things would happen up there, I would look up and enjoy it. Enough that I remember it now. Sunsets, mostly.
Sunset is one of the nicest things about this planet.
Next to mustard, anyway.
With those squeeze bottles, you could make a Daubigney on the wall with a yellow sun and ketchup clouds. When I go to Waremart? I see all these things in gallon jars, like mustard, that you can get for four dollars. Or less. Quantities, man. The last time I went there with MJ, I was able to walk the aisles with her, and when I came to that part, with all those industrial tankards of mayo and mustard and this and that, I went, "Shit. I gotta buy some of this stuff." She had to step in right away and stop me. She can tell that transfixed wonder-look. She could see I was going to get one of each. Not to eat, to have. Why? Well, if you know that, you'd know the mystery of what it's like to feel secure in having large cheap quantities of any weird material. Mustard in that kind of bulk for three or four dollars is a material. A really neat one. Just set it on the deck, or in the bathtub, and see what happens.
I wouldn't eat it; I might taste it; but I'm afraid I would be guilty here, of just wanting it.
Hey ~ people want cars that cost sixty thousand dollars.
I know it's wasteful to buy stuff you're not going to use. But ~ just go bother somebody else. One gallon of mustard bought off the bottom shelf at Waremart is not going to change the world.
Hmmmmmm.
No ~ let's go with that. NOT going to change the world.
And I'm supporting farmers, or food giants.
Tomatoes are pretty common too.
You know how you've always wanted to squeeze one of those little hot dog squeeze bottles really hard? Maybe at someone? Or something?
Well, go ahead.
Deny it.
Liar.
Bull-shit, I say.
Everyone here has wanted to squeeze one of those things ~ mercilously.
How far can you get it to go? How much?
If I took the porcelain sides off a bunch of washers and dryers, well, let's say three, and flattened them out, then put them against the garage wall ~ let's see a side is, (on a washer, because it loads from the top) ~ a side is two feet wide and 34 inches high
~ say 3 feet ~ so that's 2+2+2 by 3 ~ a slab of porcelain panel six feet wide and two feet high. Okay, with three of those you get a porcelain square of six feet. I can go down to the recycling dumpster behind the farm store and get them right now. Today. "We have your canvas, Mr Gogh."
Hang them from the side of the garage, with a plastic back, with an inch of overlap, and put your picnic table about eight feet away.
Heh heh heh heh.
You feelin it?
You can make a big mustard sun, and some ketchup sunset clouds.
Re-do Vincent's Sunflowers.
"Polly the parrot."
For guests with no imagination who are tee-totalers, you can do a paint-by-numbers theme. Obviously, there's the flag, and fireworks, on The Fourth.
I don't have to tell you, well maybe I do, how lively and amusing your next garden party will be. Busted, you'll get. You have six or eight people squeezing ketchup bottles, and there's going to be, well, beer consumption. Mayhem. So much "urge" bubbling to the surface whole neighborhoods will need to be inoculated.
And the whole thing hoses off! Take a split half-piece of 3 inch ABS pipe and make a gutter underneath the edge, that flows to the garden, or the compost, or into a bucket.
Every city park should have some.
In a few years, people will be recycling black-porcelain washers, and that will be cool, too.
NO AVOCADO.
OR HARVEST, GODDAM IT.
Okay, maybe, but I don't think so.
I'll be sending these market ideas to the American Mustard Board.
Who wants to go down to the dumpster with me?
Get in the truck!
And we'll stop at Waremart.
Heh heh. |
