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May. 23rd, 2008 01:30 pm"Cyanobacteria never get the blues," is what my fortune cookie said this morning, and I returned it to the front counter of the Chinese restaurant where I was having an early breakfast. I demanded true enlightenment or at least a refund.
The next thing I knew I was floating upward, right through the ceiling, drifting on the winds. My back pain went away as I was pulled upward, lengthening my spine and expanding my rib cage with the floating relaxation. Idly, I realized I had forgotten my leftover ma po tofu in a doggie bag in the world below me. Instead I took a bite out of a cloud and, insubstantial as I was, I was satisfied.
Then I came back down to earth, thanked the woman behind the counter, and left. And now I can't stop eating cotton balls.
They still taste like cotton, but the word has it that cyanobacteria never get the blues.
Sometimes to reach enlightenment you just need to ask nicely.
The next thing I knew I was floating upward, right through the ceiling, drifting on the winds. My back pain went away as I was pulled upward, lengthening my spine and expanding my rib cage with the floating relaxation. Idly, I realized I had forgotten my leftover ma po tofu in a doggie bag in the world below me. Instead I took a bite out of a cloud and, insubstantial as I was, I was satisfied.
Then I came back down to earth, thanked the woman behind the counter, and left. And now I can't stop eating cotton balls.
They still taste like cotton, but the word has it that cyanobacteria never get the blues.
Sometimes to reach enlightenment you just need to ask nicely.
