Features
6.20.18: a rebel alliance of quality content
our facebook page our twitter page intrepid media feature page rss feed
FEATURES  :  GALLERYhover for drop down menu  :  STUDIOhover for drop down menu  :  ABOUThover for drop down menu sign in

the last loaf
a moment of postmodern being
by sigbjørn lund olsen
12.11.04
writing

The house is empty. There’s a fly buzzing around the ceiling light, annoying me. I turn the telly on. Coronation Street. It’s trash but that’s what it’s supposed to be, so I leave it on and walk back into the kitchen to make a sandwich.

The loaf's blue and white plastic packaging has a big, gaping hole in it, placed exactly where my patience gave in. I grab a plate from the rack and then four slices of bread from the bag... The fridge door yields a little too quickly, and the sound it makes as it slams into the wall briefly interrupts the drama of the living room ... I’m pregnant. I’m angry, cos I don’t care about you. I just don’t care.

Butter. Ham slices. Iceberg salad left from last Saturday. Mayo. And a beer, then I close the fridge. I meticulously slap the stuff together and leave the ingredients out. Reentering the living room, Corrie has given way to adverts. There’s a woman trying to sell me ice cream with sex, and then a guy who can shave in five seconds. It’s the best I can get. I’m a man and he’s Gillette. But I don’t actually see anything. I'm not actually looking.

I just consume my sandwich and close my eyes, exploring that vague fatigue you feel at the end of another day. Mmm. But then it happens... something snaps in my mind, somehow I engage this elusive thought that’s been waxing over such a long, long time... It commands: Abort. So I do. Catharsis. I switch off the telly...

Yes. Yes, I can hear the buzzing clearly now.


ABOUT SIGBJØRN LUND OLSEN

Sigbjørn still maintains that he is going to be somebody ... carefully neglecting the fact that all the ninety-year olds still singing into their combs in front of their mirrors, they too knew that they were going to be somebody. It is slowly dawning on him that his shot at being a star kid actor may very well have passed, so as a backup plan, he's currently attending university in Trondheim, Norway, studying film.

more about sigbjørn lund olsen

IF YOU LIKED THIS COLUMN...

friend
what makes you one?
by sigbjørn lund olsen
topic: writing
published: 4.23.00


the first circle
feeling small
by sigbjørn lund olsen
topic: writing
published: 3.31.03





COMMENTS

juli mccarthy
12.11.04 @ 8:29p

Butter AND mayo? What are you doing, ASKING for a heart attack??

sigbjørn olsen
12.11.04 @ 8:31p

Fat is good for you.

tracey kelley
12.12.04 @ 9:33a

He entered into a glycemic overdose.

jael mchenry
12.13.04 @ 10:52a

And that's dangerous when you're pregnant.

sigbjørn olsen
12.13.04 @ 1:33p

I have a question.

I’m pregnant. I’m angry, cos I don’t care about you. I just don’t care.

The bit here is supposed to be background noise from the telly, that is also reflecting the inner state of the narrator. That is, he is "full" / numb / ready to "give birth" to his frustration.

Does it read like that? Would it read like that if for example italics were used?

juli mccarthy
12.13.04 @ 1:41p

Might read better in italics, but because I know you're a guy, it didn't confuse me much.



Intrepid Media is built by Intrepid Company and runs on Dash