“Step into my fortress,” says the microwave, the evil auctioneer, conductor of particle transportation. And many did.
Porcelain is one of the few things that have gotten used to it, but soup doesn’t stand a chance.It takes even the sandwich, with utmost integrity, and turns it into a floppy bubbling mess.
It twirls you around, scrutinizing you – and in a very ruthless manner at that. Think about that scene in ‘Taken’ where they’re bidding for the girls.
And the way it hums at you, it really emphasises it’s indifference to your emotions, it’s lack of opinion of you. It literally boils you alive, the worst – and last – job interview you will ever get.
Around a year ago I came in from a night out, a tad intoxicated. In my kitchen I looked around me and I wanted to be productive, as was clearly the sensible thing to do at 4am. And I suppose I was; I ended up writing a collection of micro-stories about the collection of items in my kitchen. I was looking through that notepad today and I decided I’d let them see the light of air, as nonsensical as they may be.
Number 7, techno heaven, number 8 is next which, you may be relieved to hear is the penultimate installment of Kitchen Soliloquys: same place, tomorrow, don’t miss it!