Sunday, October 3, 2010

Damnation in a potato.

My parents, once again, were right: looks can be deceiving.

Not easily fooled by flash, I have always gone for the underdog. This, a trait I inherited from my father. I remember him, when I was growing up, sitting in front of Sunday football games, always rooting for the underdog; particularly, I remember, the Cleveland Browns. He, a distant armchair member of The Dawg Pound. Why, I wondered? We were not Ohioans. We had no distant relations in this state; in fact, I have still to this day never been there. And, I don't know that my dad has either. I now find that their motto is terribly fitting, and perhaps my dad knew it at the time. A state who believes in All Things. The looks of things, and people, can change -- sprouting up on spouted possibilities.

My dad is dichotomous. Beneath Underdog Breaths is divulged that People Don't Change, quoting recently: “The alligator said he’d give him a ride across the river. And (the squirrel) said, ‘Oh no, I can’t do that.’ (The alligator) said, ‘I won’t bite you.’ So the squirrel jumped on the alligator’s back, and about halfway across, he reached around and ate him. The moral is: man, that’s still an alligator.”

But, alligators can beautify, can they not? I believe that they can. They can file down scales and put lotion on. Yet, I am pessimistic that they will. This dichotomy, it seems, I inherited as well. I hold standards, remote ideals, and yet I dare not trust that they'll be reached. I dare not believe the words -- sweet promises spoken. I am scared of being bitten again; or, worse this time, eaten...

I wanted a potato. A potato with eggs. Breakfast in the p.m. But, it wasn't to be. As I cut open a beautiful red outside, I found grey. Rotting black, eating away at the starchy flesh.

Damnation, in a potato.

Dinner's menu alters. Plans change. Taste something different...

Perhaps, I think far too much about Innards.

Internal mysteries will not quiet. I yell at them sometimes, these questions of secret, asked of me; and I pound in midnight anger as I do on the walls when my Mousy Wall Guests will not sleep.

A "picture of health" a Perfect Potato, is sometimes damned... question, and to eat something different, before it, itself, is eaten from the inside out...

~ A Damned to be Different Dinner ~

Swiss chard
Earth Balance "butter"
Sea salt & pepper


  1. " A Damned to be Different Dinner" love it. that potato looks nasty...too bad there are no worms around to feed it too..

  2. I think I like your dad…(maybe the inner masochist in us all is a Cleveland sports fan). Also, thank you for retelling one of my favorite stories. I have always heard it told with the characters being a turtle and a scorpion…and they both drown. I like this new version, too. Bummer about the potato. I think that could be a new phrase to express ones bad luck, “Well, rotten potatoes!”

  3. I feel the same way about football when teams that are playing are not on the list of "my favorites". Yeah for your dad. By the way, I saw him & your mom at your grandparent's home on Saturday. The potato reminds me of some people--they look good on the outside, but their heart is pretty rotten! Hence the saying,"you can't always tell a book by its' cover". Sharon Austin

  4. Jay - my dad is awesome. :) No questions 'bout it!
    Ha! Yes, maybe there is an inner Cleveland Browns fan in us all (or at least, maybe three should be!?).

    Alligator and squirrel/turtle and scorpion...either way, it is pretty profound, eh?

    "Rotten potatoes!" I'm going to use that one. :)

    Sharon - very true! Sometimes, the ugliest of books have the most beautiful words.