epistemological fire.

So I’m sitting here in my living room, its very quite, I’m dutifully reading and attempting to absorb Bertrand Russell (though at this point I very well might opt for osmosis and sit on him) with my cup of Wild Sweet Orange tea in front of me and my little Tocca candle lit. Yes.

After about 20 minutes of realy actually trying to be engaged and not looking longingly at the TV (which I unplugged) my phone (which I turned off) and my computer (which I’m trying to ignore) I figure I must be having some sort of strange stroke because I can smell cabbage, but I’ve been reading Skeptics for so long all I can think is “Right, you smell cabbage. Sure. Keep studying procrastinator.” So I’m sitting here, and something in the back of my brain is going “No. Seriously. You smell cabbage. Hot, steamy cabbage. Serious.” And the rest of my brain is saying “Seriously, this is your latest attempt at procrastination? A STROKE?”

And I look up, and I’ve placed my candle directly under the big cabbage flowers, which are par-charred to perfection.



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2 responses to “epistemological fire.

  1. Tim

    haha that means your bum is semi-permeable!

  2. Oh man. I love it. Did your apartment smell like burnt cabbage for days?

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