Thursday, 2 April 2015

Journal # 04.02.15

The onus was on the wind to carry the dandelion seeds to the earth. The onus was on the rain to push the seeds into the soil. The onus was on the earth worms to stir the soil. The onus was on the nutrients in the soil to warm and hatch the dandelion out of its seed. The onus was on the dandelion to make its way to break into light. The onus was on the sun to give the little dandelion the strength to rise up and awaken into a new world.

The onus was on the man to feed his children. The onus was on the woman. The onus was on the town to provide something to do. The man was hired to wake up before dawn on sweltering summer days. He slammed his fist down on the alarm clock on the carpet under the couch. The television was local static. Not even the infomercials were up at this ungodly hour. The blanket had moth holes in it and had not done a good job keeping him warm. The eight bottles of Molson Golden made up the difference. He was still intoxicated. He broke out the Yuban and spilled it out onto the formica. Half of it landed in the coffee filter splayed out like a cotton bleached sunflower. He grabbed it up by its edges and tossed it into the coffee maker. The hard pharmaceutically enhanced, chlorinated tap water blasted into the pot so he almost dropped it into the basin. Seven of his beer bottles were in there. The other was on the coffee table by the couch, half full of warm beer.

Half a pot of coffee brought his buzz back. Worked nicely with the pastry against the lingering effect of alcohol. This would get him through half the morning okay. He fired up the mower then stepped aside for a moment. He took a shallow breath and lit a cigarrette. He looked out across the acre lot ahead of him. The damn thing was like a meadow of gold. Dandelions. Fucking dandelions. He couldn't wait to annihilate them all!