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#flossing
I wouldn’t call what we do ‘blogging,’ would you? I’m somewhat conversant with blogging and it would be like: ‘December 14th, I realized I was out of dental floss, so I called 112 (France’s 911) and they yelled at me.” A poet might say: The morning was pale and judgmental, the light didn’t illuminate, as much as accuse me of oversleeping. I’d just spit-out the last of my bubblegum toothpaste, when I tugged the dental floss only to be rewarded with a two-inch fragment. The sink gurgled like a drowning swimmer as I rummaged through the medicine cabinet and then the linen closet - where we store spare soaps, shampoos, mouthwashes and the other detritus of modern hygiene - but no floss. I’d started the shower minutes ago, expecting a quick entry and now the bathroom had become sauna-like. French bathrooms have these box-like, ‘on demand’ water heaters, like 2 gallon coffee percolators, that dispense hot-as--holy-hell water, the mist of which, falling on the chilled, white, underfoot tiles, created a ceramic slippery-slide. I searched Peter and my travel toiletry bags, but alas and again, no floss. The ticking clock, that merciless, bureaucratic tool, mocked the undoing of my morning schedule. In a moment of clarity, born of despair, I picked up my iPhone and demanded “Siri, call One-one-two!” The French telephone system returns a higher-pitched, single-tone ring with longer pauses in between. Three rings later I got an answer, “This is an emergency.” I announced (‘C'est une urgence’). “What is the nature of your emergency,” a calm, dispassionate A.I.-voice asked. “I’ve run out of floss.” I blurted. There was a long pause where I could almost hear the A.I. dispatcher glitching. “Mademoiselle,” it finally said, “calling 112 is not a joke.” “Neither is plaque!” I replied - thinking of how proud my dental hygienist would be of me. “Yet here we are,” I added, before the line went dead. . . A song for this: https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_21.mp3
0
Dec 16, 2025
Dec 16, 2025 at 10:15 PM UTC
anaisvionet
blogging
I wouldn’t call what we do ‘blogging,’ would you? I’m somewhat conversant with blogging and it would be like: ‘December 14th, I realized I was out of dental floss, so I called 112 (France’s 911) and they yelled at me.” A poet might say: The morning was pale and judgmental, the light didn’t illuminate, as much as accuse me of oversleeping. I’d just spit-out the last of my bubblegum toothpaste, when I tugged the dental floss only to be rewarded with a two-inch fragment. The sink gurgled like a drowning swimmer as I rummaged through the medicine cabinet and then the linen closet - where we store spare soaps, shampoos, mouthwashes and the other detritus of modern hygiene - but no floss. I’d started the shower minutes ago, expecting a quick entry and now the bathroom had become sauna-like. French bathrooms have these box-like, ‘on demand’ water heaters, like 2 gallon coffee percolators, that dispense hot-as--holy-hell water, the mist of which, falling on the chilled, white, underfoot tiles, created a ceramic slippery-slide. I searched Peter and my travel toiletry bags, but alas and again, no floss. The ticking clock, that merciless, bureaucratic tool, mocked the undoing of my morning schedule. In a moment of clarity, born of despair, I picked up my iPhone and demanded “Siri, call One-one-two!” The French telephone system returns a higher-pitched, single-tone ring with longer pauses in between. Three rings later I got an answer, “This is an emergency.” I announced (‘C'est une urgence’). “What is the nature of your emergency,” a calm, dispassionate A.I.-voice asked. “I’ve run out of floss.” I blurted. There was a long pause where I could almost hear the A.I. dispatcher glitching. “Mademoiselle,” it finally said, “calling 112 is not a joke.” “Neither is plaque!” I replied - thinking of how proud my dental hygienist would be of me. “Yet here we are,” I added, before the line went dead. . . A song for this: https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_21.mp3
Continue reading...
22
Flossing is so violent Little hard string between your gums It squeezes where it shouldn’t be To force things out that I put in me To make me look nice To make me strong To protect my teeth I hate it It’s an extra step in my day An extra step I wouldn’t take If I wasn’t screamed at to do the right thing I’m annoyed By all the right things I have to do, I have to lead with love Never anger, never violence Love my enemies Beat them with knowledge Pacify them with silence Be skinny (I couldn’t wait to complain about that one again) That’s the one I hold onto Because that’s the one I may never win I have to be smart But never smart enough to make a difference Just smart enough to learn from others Smart enough to run from the kitchen In every way, That **** kitchen is my enemy It’s the starting place of all the revolution within me I could eat But not too much I still have to eat At least it helps me eat clean another way to purify my body I have to be a good cook It’s a survival skill Why the **** does it seem like everyone’s preparing for the apocalypse? Survival of the fit Maybe Darwin was right Maybe that’s why everyone is obsessed with discipline In being put together Maybe that’s why it’s the standard that we judge each other Who, on Earth, is keeping it together? Maybe that’s why people pick apart, pry, and pull at their skin Maybe that’s the thing Yeah, that’s the thing That helps them survive this It’s not an apocalypse, with zombies and robots Life is the apocalypse It’s psychological warfare For our attention Our hearts Our care Everybody’s shaped by the news they couldn’t bear Life is rough and beautiful and full of contradictions Everyone knows it ***** People only look content with it It’s a mask they wear Until they can’t take it anymore People try to be kind I respect that the most It’s easy to be cruel when your heart is burned to black It’s harder to walk around with the ashes and  pretend you got it back When everybody’s plugged in Everybody’s losing their mind And here I am, silly just trying to get a grip on mine I hate the apps All of them It feels like we’re puppets on a string Free thinking has been corrupted It just means being a **** And they know that too They know you before you get to know you It’s so **** frustrating I try not to be angry I spent life angry at people in silence Wanting earth to blow up Wanting it all to just be quiet But I love human beings Even when they tell me I need a hobby Go outside, go touch grass I can do that for days on end Doing things doesn’t make the world feel less flat? This false sense of community we’ve created This more important society online that we curated It’s inescapable You can leave But what about everyone else? They say you need community How? When I also want to isolate myself When I don’t want to opt into all the games All the rules made up, so lame From dating to culture To politics to philosophy And we demonize drugs and alcohol, Sedation doesn’t seem that crazy to me I hate it all It’s all just a bunch of little religions But these are the things we connect on And ****** I admit I want connection I’m in the middle and I’m idle I’m frozen in this state Nothing makes sense And yet it all seems perfectly placed It’s not all by design Contrary to belief That Jesus told us this would happen He just told us humans are a self-fulfilling prophecy We teach our kids to carry on our sin Of course the elites think we need them to jump in Of course they think we need to be saved from our own creation of chaos We need order This is the sacrifice for peace Never mind people still dying in the streets Hungry Homeless Cold And full of despair We feed people in the middle east And yes they deserve to eat But we don’t even make eye contact with our neighbors Or the homeless man down the street That’s the chaos That’s the byproduct of sin Of not trying to do better Of neverending wars between men But we love it anyway And we sin anyway It’s expected We blame everyone but ourselves It’s our humanity we’ve neglected We think it’s found in all these things that don’t matter I feel so bad for everyone I feel bad for myself We’re all just trying to do the right thing Even it’s wrong They say to stop trying is weak OR it could be the key to freedom We’ll keep debating it all On our way back to Eden
0
Jun 23, 2025
Jun 23, 2025 at 7:08 PM UTC
indi-2
I hate flossing
Flossing is so violent Little hard string between your gums It squeezes where it shouldn’t be To force things out that I put in me To make me look nice To make me strong To protect my teeth I hate it It’s an extra step in my day An extra step I wouldn’t take If I wasn’t screamed at to do the right thing I’m annoyed By all the right things I have to do, I have to lead with love Never anger, never violence Love my enemies Beat them with knowledge Pacify them with silence Be skinny (I couldn’t wait to complain about that one again) That’s the one I hold onto Because that’s the one I may never win I have to be smart But never smart enough to make a difference Just smart enough to learn from others Smart enough to run from the kitchen In every way, That **** kitchen is my enemy It’s the starting place of all the revolution within me I could eat But not too much I still have to eat At least it helps me eat clean another way to purify my body I have to be a good cook It’s a survival skill Why the **** does it seem like everyone’s preparing for the apocalypse? Survival of the fit Maybe Darwin was right Maybe that’s why everyone is obsessed with discipline In being put together Maybe that’s why it’s the standard that we judge each other Who, on Earth, is keeping it together? Maybe that’s why people pick apart, pry, and pull at their skin Maybe that’s the thing Yeah, that’s the thing That helps them survive this It’s not an apocalypse, with zombies and robots Life is the apocalypse It’s psychological warfare For our attention Our hearts Our care Everybody’s shaped by the news they couldn’t bear Life is rough and beautiful and full of contradictions Everyone knows it ***** People only look content with it It’s a mask they wear Until they can’t take it anymore People try to be kind I respect that the most It’s easy to be cruel when your heart is burned to black It’s harder to walk around with the ashes and  pretend you got it back When everybody’s plugged in Everybody’s losing their mind And here I am, silly just trying to get a grip on mine I hate the apps All of them It feels like we’re puppets on a string Free thinking has been corrupted It just means being a **** And they know that too They know you before you get to know you It’s so **** frustrating I try not to be angry I spent life angry at people in silence Wanting earth to blow up Wanting it all to just be quiet But I love human beings Even when they tell me I need a hobby Go outside, go touch grass I can do that for days on end Doing things doesn’t make the world feel less flat? This false sense of community we’ve created This more important society online that we curated It’s inescapable You can leave But what about everyone else? They say you need community How? When I also want to isolate myself When I don’t want to opt into all the games All the rules made up, so lame From dating to culture To politics to philosophy And we demonize drugs and alcohol, Sedation doesn’t seem that crazy to me I hate it all It’s all just a bunch of little religions But these are the things we connect on And ****** I admit I want connection I’m in the middle and I’m idle I’m frozen in this state Nothing makes sense And yet it all seems perfectly placed It’s not all by design Contrary to belief That Jesus told us this would happen He just told us humans are a self-fulfilling prophecy We teach our kids to carry on our sin Of course the elites think we need them to jump in Of course they think we need to be saved from our own creation of chaos We need order This is the sacrifice for peace Never mind people still dying in the streets Hungry Homeless Cold And full of despair We feed people in the middle east And yes they deserve to eat But we don’t even make eye contact with our neighbors Or the homeless man down the street That’s the chaos That’s the byproduct of sin Of not trying to do better Of neverending wars between men But we love it anyway And we sin anyway It’s expected We blame everyone but ourselves It’s our humanity we’ve neglected We think it’s found in all these things that don’t matter I feel so bad for everyone I feel bad for myself We’re all just trying to do the right thing Even it’s wrong They say to stop trying is weak OR it could be the key to freedom We’ll keep debating it all On our way back to Eden
Continue reading...
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