Marmart

I have invented a new art form in which marmite is used to capture the prevailing zeitgeist: chaos that we must consume and which polarises society. Yeast extract as a metaphor for choice. The best thing since sliced bread or the end of the world as we know it?

I was pleased with this first attempt. The strange trails from the squeezey bottle poured from on high produced the Rorschach’s style patterns that you see before you. That of course is itself controversial; some people think that marmite should only be sold in glass bottles, that the idea of a squeezey is an invention of the metropolitan elite who want quite literally to turn our world upside down. My own interpretation is as follows (clockwise from top left): a urinating butterfly; a fat man with a horse’s head climbing a hill; a horse with two heads in a bumper car; and a man with sails instead of arms, running head down into the wind.

I think it was Da Vinci who said that art is never finished, only abandoned. I beg to disagree. TSM and I ate the lot.

As for the rest of the day The Yoga Mama came down and TSM made the most wonderful soup with lentils, spinach and pulses. In the evening she was less successful and the vegan quiche proved a fail, but to be fair it’s a hard one to pull off. We were quite happy with jacket potatoes and ice cream (not at the same time of course, you’d be sick).

In between times we played kalooki, which The Yoga Mama is usually very sharp at. But today she was knocked out early on and TSM and I were left locked into a battle for supremacy from which she narrowly emerged victorious.

Many other things happened today which I can no longer remember. They are stored on the hard drive of eternity which us mere mortals cannot access, at least not in this life.

Personally I think that when you die you have to watch the whole boxed set of your life in real time before you are allowed to move on to a higher plane of existence. That is why I am trying to improve myself with my mate marmart. It elevates the soul...