Teapots

Little teapots on a shelf. Black, blue, red and white. Which one would you choose. If you choose the black one would that be saying a particular thing about you. Why do you like black? Are you dark inside. Are you gloomy. Are you tense or are you thinking that it would make your tea warmer because darker colors absorb heat faster. Or does it only apply to human skin.

If you choose blue. Would it be because you're wanting space? Vast spaces. Like the ocean or the sky. Does it depend on the type of blue? Does it make a difference if it is dark blue or light blue. Does it make you feel more like a boy to justify your masculinity?

Now red, do you pick red just because you have started reading the Communist Manifesto. A fan of Che Guevara. A little financially tight, so you think a little red in your life would bring some symbolic essence of prosperity to your life. Or are you just lacking passion and basically just horny. You want sex and just want ot see red. Red, the color of passion.

Does white just say purity for you. Wouldn't it be just nice to see your hot tea streming out of your new white teapot. Does this all fucking matter. Colors and teapots. If one puts so much emphasis on what teapot color they want does that say something about you. Are you a teapot racist because you don't want a particular teapot because of its color. A certain color doesn't fit in your life because it doesn't match various other aspects of your life. Does everything have to symbolize something for us?

With teapots don't we just want to use it to pour tea. Why does it matter? We do like to complicate things? So much questions. So complex we are as consumers. Just drink the fucking tea. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Pick your teapots and just go.

Mr. Milito

Calling Mr. Milito, Calling Mr. Milito, Hey hey hey. Do you want to buy my phone? Come on. Come on now. Please...

I'm not Mr. Milito, who is Mr. Milito, what is Mr. Milito, I mean what kind of name is Mr. Milito? Who are you? Come up here calling me Mr. Milito like you know me. Why would you think I' am Mr. Milito? Do I look like a Mr. Milito? What does a Mr. Milito look like? Jesus Christ!!!!

Hey hey hey .... come on now..... Mr. Milito. The name. Very famous in Argentina. Alberto Diego Milito and Gabriel Milito. Big time footballers.

What!!!That's only two. How does that make Milito famous? I've never heard of Milito named footballers being famous. What are they kickers? I've never heard of kickers named Milito anyway? I do the fantasy league Mister. I know all of them kickers.

You don't follow football. If you follow. You know. So how about buying this phone?

Hold on Mr. Chong. How do you like that? You like it if I call you Chong? Just like that without knowing you.

I'm cool. No biggies. You buy phone. hehe....

See here. I follow football. Believe me. Don't need to explain to you. I know my football. Do you follow football Mr. Chong?

I'm Mr. Liew. I'm Barcelona number one fan.hahahah....

I see. You mean soccer. hahhh..... Mr. I can't pronounce that. Leee uuuu.... See at least I try to pronounce your name.

I call you Milito. Because I feel it is good ice breaker. Plus you look like him.hhahaha.... And it's actually called football. Because we use foot.

Okay here we go again. How do I look like a Mr. Milito? And over here in America we call it soccer. We have our own football.

But you don't use your foot. You use your hands. So why you call it football?

Hey I'm not here to argue with you about why we call football, football and call soccer, soccer. This is America. You live in America, I live in America. This is how it is. Like it or not.

But you haven't answered my question.

Christ! Come on Mr. Chong. I have no interest wasting my Sunday morning on you. I have calls to make. A football game to watch. Yes, the ones that we use the hands.

You call me Mr. Chong, I call you mr. Milito and before you make call you buy my phone.

With all due respect........

Solace in Isolation

Here I am alone again,

I feel at peace alone again,

Like the tale of the Loch Ness beast,

Its solace on that lake comforts me,

I’m jobless,

I’m broke,

But I don’t feel like choking,

Isolation is my strength,

Silence is my comfort,

I’m in a burg of peace,

Protected from the downturn’s,

A broken promise to my generation,

I wonder,

Is it a punishment to my time?

Has my peers, my generation and me lived to easily,

Why can’t we go on just like past inhabitants of the free society,

We invest to the rich and the powerful,

We were promised the fruits of capitalism,

But all our achievements all seem irrelevant now,

Have we always lived in false freedom?

Or are have we just run out of things to exploit,

Sometimes I feel we are blinded,

So many events occurring elsewhere,

Some places painted with different forms of power and law,

Places plundered to serve the so called free world,

This is one world,

Our world,

But for now I’m solace in my isolation,

I’m only a man,

A person,

My burg is surrounded by the troubles of my time,

7 floors high two furballs and I,

Waiting and creating while greener pastures come.