rinue | The Daily Consternation

Ciro is serious about toast.

Ciro is not a toast fetishist. He does not demand toast at a regular interval, nor does he have bread pecadilloes. I would not call him a toast fanatic. I would not say he gets more joy from toast than from other foods or categories of food. He is, however, serious.

Ciro is the kind of guy who calls a spade a spade. He never uses "awesome" unless he is describing something that makes him feel awed.

I find that I associate numbers with concepts. This is not surprising. 3 equals Ciro, and also stands for heroism. 4 means love, and is a little bit bashful. 5 is Romie. 345; this is convenient and unexpected. Things fall neatly into order. Romie, love, Ciro as the sides of a right triangle.

In the morning, I splash my face with water four times. At night, ten, sometimes eleven. When it is eleven, I wonder what it means.

I am thinking a lot about sex. I think "we have a lot of sex, and it is good, and we are good at it." I think of a girl who is naked except for a soft white sweater.

Images:

- Bridesmaids in white walking down an aisle with bouquets of basil. The basil covers their fingers. We can smell the basil as they walk by.

- A newspaper editor chewing on a cinnamon stick in place of a cigar. Perhaps a trick has been played. Perhaps the editor has problems with cholesterol. A cross section of a cinnamon stick filled with tapioca.

- Plastic gears; a think yellow gear with ridges interlocking with gray gears of a thinner flexible plastic. Strains and bends where the gray plastic looks white.

I saw my teeth in the paper a few months ago - my old teeth, the ones I've seen in dozens of clay models. I carry genetic markers for schizophrenia. My teeth are one. There are others I don't have.

I spend time complaining about imaginary friends:

"His name is Michael Barrister, but his friends call him Mike - except for El, who calls him Shelby. Michael Barrister -> Michael B. -> Michel B. -> Shelby, a pun more elaborate than it is interesting. El is extremely amused by this kind of wordplay, and will happily spend hours free associating. Whenever possible, she uses homophones so that when the context would suggest she means "sore," she knows she is secretly saying "soar." This should make no material difference, but irritates all of us."

Romie and Ciro as The Couple of the Future:

C: Don't you wish that your eyelash curler spritzed your lashes with an acrylate copolymer?

R: (curling eyelashes) I do. An acrylate copolymer...I believe that would be water soluble.

C: Yes. Due to the nature of the chemistry.