Always Better, My Blog

Water your thoughts? My opinions on water in various contexts.

SECTION 0. MY FIRST DISPUTE WITH THE TRANSPORTATION SECURITY ADMINISTRATION

In 2006, the TSA banned liquids. Being a clever, pedantic, and thirsty child, I arrived to the airport with a bottle of ice.

“You can’t bring that through security,” the agent explained.

I asked why.

She said, “It’s a liquid.” With a shit-eating grin, I replied, “But it’s ice.”

“I know,” she answered. “Ice is a liquid.”

SECTION 1: THE MOUTH

  • Saliva is under-appreciated.
  • Drool is disgusting.
  • Spit should be avoided at all costs.
  • The saliva of a lover requires further research, currently accepting applications.

SECTION 2: COMMON APPLICATIONS OF WATER

  • The water that makes up 80% of my body: Great.
  • 80% of your body: Passable.
  • 80% of Donald Trump’s body: No comment.

 

  • Water-based lube: good.
  • Tears: Bad, unless they’re being used as water-based lube.

 

  • Water is great for fish, camels, and rainforests, necessary for farmers, and hit-and-miss with New Orleans.

 

  • Showers are good, baths are great, and hot tubs are excellent.
    • The four differences between a bath and a hot tub are friends, chlorine, jets, and clothing. Realization: Friends and jets must be fabulous, because chlorine is awful and clothing is the worst.

SECTION 3: LOCATIONS WHERE ONE MIGHT FIND WATER

  • Cup: good.
  • Bottle: fine.
  • Pool: excellent.
  • Syringe: concerning.
  • Computer: oh no.
  • Bed: your fault.
  • My van: bad rust.
  • The statue of liberty: somehow delightful rust.

SECTION 4: LINGUISTIC ANALYSIS

  • SUBSECTION 1: FICTIONAL ETYMOLOGY
    • “Water” derives from the Latin “Wah-tah-ré,” meaning gift of the gods.
  • SUBSECTION 2: SYLLABLES
    • Wat: the Thai word for temple
    • Er: the sound often heard during the search for a hard-to-find word.
  • SUBSECTION 3: CURIOUS INSIGHT
    • Food, air, sun, earth, touch, love, mom, dad. Why is the word “water” two syllables when all other life necessities can be described in one?
  • SUBSECTION 4: WORDPLAY
    • Passable:
      • Water you doing? Water you talking about? Water you looking at?
    • Desirable:
      • Water you want to drink?
    • Too far:
      • Water you want her, the waiter, to wither while we a-waiter to order?

SECTION 5: TRAITS

  • Warm water: good for bathing.
  • Cold water: good for drinking and borscht. Otherwise to be avoided.
  • Hot water: Excellent for cooking.
    • Also means “trouble,” as in the phrase, “While exchanging saliva, Carol and I overheard the deafening footfalls of Principal Jerickson’s rotund personage and knew we were in hot water.”

SECTION 6: ENDING

  • Some say the world will end in fire, others in ice. I say the world already ended in a flood… or at least that’s what the Salt Lake City billboards taught me.

 

Special thanks to Brine Waves, a Salt Lake City writing group that invited me to their gathering this week, themed “water.”

Did you like this piece? Hate it? Throw a comment below so I can know what to write in the future. 

My daily arting requirement this year (from 190521 to 200520)

1. Compose from my place of emotional vulnerability until satisfied.

2. Edit such that I like it sufficiently. (ideally, I would edit until I like it maximally, but 1. One can only do so much in limited time and 2. It’s better to edit something over multiple days than to avoid editing it altogether because I can’t make it maximally satisfactory in one.)

3. If it’s safe for public consumption, share it.

Stood Up, Standing Down

I daydreamed about her all day. She stood me up.

We agreed she would call shortly after 10pm. At 11:15, I call her. She says she’ll call me back by 1am. 2:52 and still no call.

I feel like a seventeen-year-old British woman out of Jane Austen, leaning on the windowsill, complaining to her cat:

And I told him, too. I told him I’d be gazing wistfully, like all the proper ladies do in the books. He must have known he had my heart to break.

He broke a promise. He tallies his emotional work of writing a letter at more than my hurt feelings. What price would that fetch for half of me?

The breakage will heal, but in a hard and crusty scar that prevents the next lover going so deep.

We must inform him it hurts my future husband and me, and insist he be more careful with hearts in the future.

This post was inspired by the song Mis, sent by my friend Omri. What song would you want me to write on? Link it in the comments. 

Fuchs Geh Voran!

This song is hilarious.

Funny bits:

  1. It’s a German heavy metal cover of the U.S. Bubblegum Pop band that wrote “The Ballroom Blitz.”
  2. The original song, “Fox on the Run“, tells the story of a man chasing after an attractive woman. The German heavy metal cover, “Fuchs Geh Voran“, describes an actual fox-hunt, like those that happened in Jane Austin’s day.
  3. The original song is by Sweet, a shortened form of “The Sweetshop”, a place where children receive candy. The German Heavy Metal Band named themselves “Scorpions,” one of the world’s top 5 creepiest animals. And they didn’t choose “The Scorpions,” with a “The” to indicate they’re a band, not actual scorpions. Nor did they choose the singular form, “Scorpion”. No, they wanted fans to imagine multiple creepy crawlies each time their band name is mentioned.
  4. Heavy metal, fox hunting, and the German language are a great combo. An excerpt of the lyrics: (For full effect, imagine it sung in German, backed by heavy metal music. And if you don’t know German, simply imagine in a heavy German accent.) 

Hey, you beautiful animal,
I come and help you,
you are in danger.

Hey, you all just want your fur,
and whoever sells it fast,
yes that’s unfortunately true.

Wir müßen den Fuchs häuten!

The humor has concluded. You may now laugh.

If you enjoyed this piece, please like it or leave a comment. It helps me know what to write. 

 

“Thwack!” goes my head, pummeling the van door.

“Thwack!” goes my head, pummeling the van door.

See bright spots of light. Can’t balance no more.

Closed out my phone call, “I love you. Uh, bye.”

Stumbled to my knees, my head hanging high.

 

Called my chum Em’ly, the reason I’m here

Coordinated as if drunk on beer.

“I’ll call you in ten,” she said and hung up,

so I wondered whether I was wrung up. 

 

Am I concussed? I had seen stars. And my

neck mashed. From whacking it hard and uh, high.

Big ol’ thwackin’! A painful a-whackin’!

I pray the world fades not to, uh, black, and

 

but if it does, at least I’d’ve learned… Not

much of anything. An accident turned

me into a grave. A silly way to

die. In future, I’ll be A-More-Aware-of-Surroundings Guy.

 

If I wanted a Boat

The boat I would get, if I wanted a boat, would be everything that I am not.

Carefree and easy and flexing completely, withstand wind and rain and hot,

Skating along atop cresting blue waves, easing through shifting tides…

 

The boat I would get, if I wanted a boat, would not take me for a ride,

but summon me near, caring not if I come, chuckling and holding the ropes.

The boat I would get, if I wanted a boat, would dash dreams in favor of hopes.

“You’ll never go far with that kind of boat”

But I’m already too far, too fast.

The boat I would get, if I wanted a boat, would be one that my soul cries would last.

 

Days turn to weeks turn to months turn to years,

Then one day my boat turns on me

And I’d be its ears.

And it be my eyes.

Together, we’d share a mouth.

 

We’d turn, heading down, past the capes with a frown

To the warmest of waters due south,

Under the bridges of eyes and sand ridges, I’d sweat hard, shoveling coal

And my boat would tell me, “You’re working too hard. Where are we trying to go?”

I’d poke my head up, consumed in the clouds, and not help but utter an, “oh.”