La Maison en Petits Cubes

Warning

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple. 

-Jenny Joseph

Up Late, Self-magistrate

Up late,
alarm clock still ringing after twenty5 minutes,
fall down the stairs,
kill my hip like an old woman(like my grandma),
Begging a male Sleeping Beauty
to drive me.
(But he was kind)
And here it commenced;
a day of absolutely no reprieve.
Though, you know? It was not my mistake.
And I see myself as a fool.
My own unjustifiable self-magistrate.

If my Grandma

If my grandma switched from cleaning juices to mandrake juice, dragon blood, and vaporized toad dust, she would be a witch.

Monochromatic Cake

My grandma makes this funny cake that is almost completely black and white. It's a chocolate cake that really looks completely black, although it doesn't taste like dark chocolate. The frosting is this white stuff that reminds me of marshmallow goop stuff, sort-of like candy land snow would be like, maybe. It all tastes good, but one piece is just perfect. The colors satisfy.

Gas Mask

I was helping my grandmother clean out her drawers(that are a nightmare of screwdrivers and pills by the way) and -truthfully it was destined- we pulled out an old decrepit gas mask. I fell in love. The strands had broken, so she let me have it. I've always wanted one, a respirator. Don't ask me why. I'm not going to use it, but it's the coolest treasure in my room right now. Here is a picture of it:

a little dusty.

Letters from Grandpa

Sometimes my grandpa sends us letters, and when I read them, I'm a little amused because they're like his journal entries almost. I don't think I've ever received a letter like one of his. They tend to be longish(or longer from other people's) and full of events that have happened in our family lately. It's different. Then again, I don't receive letters on a regular basis. I enjoy reading them though. It's just I don't feel like I can reply to someone's journal entries very well.

Concert; Few in-between

Concert. Only went to half of it, but actually enjoyed it. A narration of Peter and the Wolf was played, and that was pretty awesome to hear. My sister played in it(French Horn) as one of the soloists. It was very pretty. Most of the people there were old balding men and aging ladies in granny dresses. Watching them socializing took off my mind from my bored-ness when I had to wait to go in. It was either old people or young people. There was few in-between.

Red Riding Hood

Little red riding hood, huh? I always end up feeling sorry for the wolf, wondering about the grandma, and asking where the hunter came from. I mean, really. Why would they send some red girl out in a wolf wood except to bring stuff to her granny.

Misfortune Gossips

You hear so much misfortune from other people. They really love to tell you their issues. I even find old people gossiping. In a certain way it's almost amusing. But it mostly just makes me melancholy because I can never figure it all out.

"The good lord blessed us with a mouth that shuts and ears that always stay open. but Me Mama Sez that we usually do the opposite." -From Me Mama Sez(a book) lamely recorded from memory