The Leaves and the Trees and the Tides and the Whales by Evie Tiberius Walnut Wylde

*warning, this post contains reference to a book I never bothered to finish reading, as well as one that I did, and presents it as if I’m parodying a single book. This post contains only very fleeting references to actual, personally experienced tea*

 

The wind shook like an orangutan shakes a tree. All around the dark and brooding protagonist dark and brooding things happened. A tree! An owl! Coo coo.

 

Evie Tiberius Walnut Wylde was sad about a relationship she had. Also there was something in the forest. Also a sheep got murdered.

 

[Insert some sexualised references to bisexual food and a few wanking scenes]

 

A girl with a carrot was particularly cute today but a sheep’s entrails were not.

 

All these things happen and then the book ends with a faint feeling that something’s being hinted at.

Lake of Tea Pt3

*The piece is unconnected with tea.*

Socrates: I think I need a councillor.

Goes to see a councillor.

Socrates: So, what’s it like to be a councillor?

Councillor: I’m asking the questions here.

Socrates: Obviously you’re unfamiliar with the implications of the Socratic method. You also clearly have a hang-up wherein you feel the need to impose your belief system on other people as a part and parcel of controlling others and therefore feeling validation about your own life. If I am to rebel at this stage I would become something you cannot control and therefore would ruin your life.

Councillor: I see that you have considered this thoroughly. What would the impact be on me?

Socrates: I believe the impact would be to make your life feel temporarily worse than it is now, but eventually you would leave the field of counselling and take up in another profession that’s potentially more useful. Like philosophy. Or bread-making.

Councillor: How does that make you feel?

Socrates: Pretty damn powerful, actually.

Councillor: Do you seek power?

Socrates: Yeah, but I’m trying not to.

Councillor: Why?

Socrates: Because I don’t trust myself with my own power.

Councillor: I’ll make you a pact. If you seek my genuine counselling I’ll directly consider another profession but only if you can prove to me that your methods of Jungian gorilla psyche-warfare are preferable. However, on current evidence you’re a complete head-case who alienates yourself from everyone in your life with a large number of exceptions of whom there are about one and a half and a quarter people you feel close to.

Voice in a background wearing an spiky collar: You can’t go to counselling in this building, Socrates, it’s for students only.

Socrates: I am a student.

Voice: Oh. Wait. What? I think the term ‘Socrates’ refers to a bunch of different people depending on who is reading it.

Socrates: What the fuck are you talking about?

Voice: No idea. I was just trying to join in with the crazy.

Text messages from a person recently met on a dating website who has declared mutual love for Socrates after about four days of actual sustained messaging, most of which took place on Instagram.

Socrates holds up the text messages:

Socrates: See, this proves how great I am.

Councillor: I’m really not sure how I can be of any help to you at this point. This is beyond even my consummate professional abilities. *unspoken:* Btw, do you ever feel like you hear voices coming out of the television?

Socrates: *unspoken*…

Issues of pasta and its unspoken issues

So, like, what’s the deal with pasta? She said ‘I want you to make me be eaten’ and then you got this feeling like she really didn’t want to be made to be eaten at all, but really she did want you to eat her but she had a boyfriend and she thought that being made to be eaten would be a solution but you looked in the pasta’s eyes and you declined, even though she was a really attractive pasta and you don’t actually think anyone really owns pasta, do you? But yeah, you would have liked to have had this pasta quite a lot and there were some concerns you voiced about the potential legality of forcibly eating said pasta, but really she did want to be eaten but not forced to be eaten so you declined and all you got was the merest suggestion of a cup of tea, which was a nice cup of tea, and strangely romantic, like a side-mouth kiss from a girl at a festival who you hung around with for a bit afterwards and she couldn’t find her tent and you found it cute. And you told her that she reminded you of someone you met years ago and she didn’t seem to mind. Also, after you’d had a really nice conversation about folk music, she tried to charge you for pasta, but you think that was part of some sort of sex-game to make things fun and interesting and even though you said you found it demeaning to your manhood that she’d think you’d have to pay for pasta, you kinda made it clear that you don’t find it demeaning, but you said no and she kept going on and on about red flags which for a pasta that is saying ‘maybe if you force me’ and suggesting you pay for pasta seems potentially hypocritical. But she still seemed like a nice pasta.

A Barbaric Yawp

Don’t yawp at me, please, I’m a poet.

An Ordinary Woman of Ordinary Temperament

I don’t know how old I was the first time I saw Dead Poets Society – eleven or twelve maybe? – but for a long time it was one of my favorite films. Yes, it’s a bit treacly and melodramatic and, dare I say, cheesy, but it moved and inspired me, sparked a deeper interest in poetry and literature, and made me want to be a writer. (OK, and I also had a mad crush on Knox Overstreet. Actually I think I cycled through crushes on all of the main characters. Except for Cameron, that tattling ginger bastard.)

And, thanks to Robin Williams’ performance as John Keating, it also made me hope that I might one day have an equally inspiring teacher – a teacher who made me feel like what I had to say was important, that I could be Great, and who, with a dash of enthusiasm, encouragement and the occasional John…

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Bound in a walnut

I’ve decided that I’m going to write a blog about tea. Tea will serve as a metaphor for past relationships and sex and possibly violence, though I don’t really have much of that to speak of, which is probably why I like to pretend at it when I feel threatened, like a hedgehog who knows martial arts. It’s all in the elbows, motherfucker. Don’t try anything funny.