cereal

the only thing I have against cereal is that it's so noisy. It's impossible to pour yourself a quiet bowl at 2 in the morning.

In a world without edges, only unending horizons

I was thinking about creating worlds and making fantasy maps and thinking how most of the time fantasy worlds just fade off along the edges, and how it often feels much better to me that way, than having precise edges and knowing everything that exists in that world. So I was thinking about worlds without edges. And then I was thinking, hey wait a minute, in a way that is our world, one of no edges, just horizons which keep revealing themselves. You think you can reach an edge, an end, a point of Here at last It Is, or I Am, or whatever, but each of those places we see from afar, when we reach them, reveal a whole new vista, and prove to be yet another step on the road, as much an end as a beginning.

The Mysterious Art of Flipping Eggs

is quite beyond me!
How on earth is one supposed to accomplish this magical feat?

(we're talking the over-easy/hard kind, you know, fried flat in a pan)
The thing could be swimming in butter but it still sticks to the spatula so I can't slide it all the way under!! If I try it just ends up wrinkling up and then bunching on the far side of the pan. I have to get three spatulas to even attempt the trick. I get one in under the edge and lift it up, then I slip another one under further and repeat. Then I try and remove the first one without tearing the egg and get it in from the other side. Then I have to juggle these three spatula handles that aren't all going the same direction and lift the whole awkward contraption and try to get it to flip over quickly without creating disater. Half the time the egg just folds over on itself and doesn't actually flip, or I break the yolk. bah! If only I didn't like eggs cooked this way so much! hehe

Why is a Raven like a Writing Desk?

a poem has been written on it.


I'm sitting here with a cup of tea looking out the kitchen window at the rainy world, watching a black bird up in the autumn coloured trees and thinking of Poe while this line from Alice in Wonderland is going through my head. This riddle troubled me greatly as a child. I must admit I've never actually read the book and don't know whether it even appears in it, where it's from, or whether any answer is ever given. but in any case this answer finally formed itself in my head now and I was reflecting on the fact that it working depends on the use of the word 'on' in English, and that it probably wouldn't translate well to some other languages.