Star Fish and Coffee, Maple Syrup and Jam


This image of my kitchen reminded me of a Prince song–a song which moves me to GOD’S Presence, frankly.  The Title is “Starfish and Coffee,” and the relevant part of the lyrics, for now, are these:

Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam
Butterscotch clouds, a tangerine
And a side order of ham
If U set your mind free, baby
Maybe you’d understand
Starfish and coffee
Maple syrup and jam

Two typewriters, a steaming pot of 100% Robusta Coffee in the background, my ever-present bottle of water, my vape, a sewing machine, and a Crème brûlée torch with which I charred a creation for some friends this morning.

The typewriter in the background is a Mystery Machine.  I studied and researched typewriters after I had found this contraption, and it does not exist.  Additionally, it has a secret, second slot in which to insert paper that is about as wide as a dollar bill.  The weirdest thing about this mystery slot on this mystery machine is that the slot is on the far right of the machine, forcing one to have to reset the margins to utilize it.  I thought it rather odd, and it is the only one like it on the planet.

What my meandering mind came up with, one year ago when I absconded with the thing for $5, was that this mystery slot was for secret messages from the other side.  I haven’t tried it out, yet, but I was just about to get to that when Starfish and Coffee came to mind, so I sat at WordPress and began this experiment in automatic writing (what I usually refer to as a “ramble”).  Now I change the tool from the PC to the Mystery Machine with the Mystery Slot.  If I don’t post again in, say, a week, someone call my sister.  If it works out, I’ll type all 7 of my novels on folded copy paper on the Mystery Machine with the Mystery Slot.  Pray for me.

I’m back.  It didn’t kill me or type out the next satanic bible.  I’m actually out of usable typewriter ribbons, unless I extract the one in the other machine.  Which just happens to be a particularly frustrating and idiosyncratic machine.  It has its twin in its present owner.  So after this minor frustration, the Mystery Slot in the Mystery-Machine-That-Does-Not-Exist said to me, “Type all seven of your novels on Wrigley’s Doublemint Gum foil wrappers.”

To which I promptly replied, “Uh, no.”


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