The other day, I broke from my own morning convention and fetched my AM coffee from a coffee chain whose name shall not be uttered on this page. It was quite likely the simplest order the coffee-servicer had fulfilled that day: a no-frills “medium coffee,” with nothing even vaguely representing an “-ino” suffix, no “shot” of anything. And as I strugged at the — what’s it called — the “fixin’s counter?” — to take a swig and scald my mouth so that I might make room for a dollup of milk, I heard the cashier ask the patron behind me in line: “Space Milk?”
Why had I not been offered Space Milk? What was Space Milk? Is it anything like what those fellas took straight-from-the-statue in A Clockwork Orange? Does it prevent against disease? Would it have prevented the suffering now endured by the nether regions of the topmost area of the inside of my mouth?
I’ll probably never know what it is. I’ll probably never know of its mouth-warming ambrosial effect. But I can have friends who are capable of writing songs that are somewhat peripherally related to Space Milkiness, and I can exploit all of this right here, just for you.
5 thoughts on “Roses, Rhododendron”
Song will be duly credited with prominence and permanence if/when it’s cleaned up and used regularly. For the time being, I’ll jot it here.
Title song: Martian, by Philip Shelley.
(It’s perfect, somehow. Space Milky, Bedtime Podcasty.)
I was reading the past descriptions and ran across your lament of the Lending Library/Free Book Bonanza Debacle. I have had this problem in the past and finally resolved most of the “overdues” by throwing a party and making it a requirement to return at least one book lent to party participants. It was a great party and a few additional mysterious copies showed up as well. No argument there.
So, if you’ve posted an e-mail link on this site I have yet to locate it and am resigned to leaving you blog comments instead. I love your podcast and am wondering if you might have a wishlist or collection box waltzing around out there for Homage to Miette. Is that a horrible thought?
I hate to think you might get the idea that your audience is silent or unappreciative, because I, for one, am not. It’s a lovely podcast and thank you so much for your time and talent. Ping me if you like. -Mdme. Leiderhosen
This was a really good one! Both the story and your reading. I’d never heard of this author before, but it impressed me greatly.
Thanks again, Miette–during my convalescence I managed to catch up with all your superb readings, and this was my recent favorite, second only to last year’s Dostoevsky. Maybe it’s just because the longer the story, the more one becomes involved. Heavens, not that I’m implying novels are therefore better!
And I love the occasional sound of your pooch lapping water throughout your podcasts. Jones is a similarly voracious lapper!
I’m so glad to hear you’re on the mend– and yes, especially in the longer pieces, The Beast tends to think she’s helping by wetting down the vocal cords vicariously!
(I’ve actually masochistically entertained the thought of doing an entire novel, a sort of marathon sitting… but I’ll have to train for it, I’m afraid)