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[perlogmeg-blog]

Life in Cast Iron

My piece of bread cooks in olive oil, my cast iron skillet takes the brunt of the stove-top heat. Used and reused, its lifestyle a constant battle of fearing rust and facing heat.

I am, by trade, an existentialist. With this in mind, bear with me here, we are all facing our own heat and fearing our own rust.

What is my rust? What is my heat? I ask myself this as I begin to smell the burning bread. Questions for another time I suppose..

One thing I will say, is that cast iron lasts forever if the proper care procedures are taken. Never use water on a cast iron skillet, that only antagonizes the potential rust. Keep it warm, after you have cooked, and use salt and towel to pick up the residue and bits. If any moisture remains after you have finished using salt, put its emptiness a high heat burner... wait. The moisture will evaporate. The pan now requires to be oiled... 1/2 teaspoon of your finest canola oil and a paper towel will suffice. Your cast iron skillet will survive yet another day.

It is rather detail oriented care for a pan... but we do it. I know these steps by heart now. Why?

Longevity.

Longevity... for a pan. But where is this effort, these steps, these calculated moves for myself?

I do not avoid rust, in fact my lungs are probably corroding as we speak. My mind does not bear the heat as well as the pan. I am burning and rusting all together. I will smoke until I float around my room. Until I have forgotten the date and time.

I will waste away, the pan will remain. Who will make sure that the rust never reaches pan? When I have floated out the door and forgotten the skillet sits on the stove. Will it rust when I am gone? Or will it remain, sitting untouched, a testament to our time together. I tell myself it will remember what I have done for it.

[perlogmeg-blog]

February 22

If only I could

jump and you

catch me.

Break through branches,

weightlessly wandering

through your gusts.

I watch you through my window.

People

say you're menacing. Cold.

I long for your push and pull.

I look for you in my ashtray.

[perlogmeg-blog]

Last Night

Russia declared war on Ukraine.

Last Night millions of people were sucker punched by bullets and bullshit. Last Night we bore witness to history, again. (I am no longer concerned with witnessing the great landmarks of our future history. The word "future" itself is cloaked in ambiguity and lives beyond the perimeters of my mind). Last Night we followed chaos and carnage somewhere dark; we have forgotten how to tread lightly.

Last Night I slept. Last Night I couldn't sleep. Last Night I smoked and was numb and I thought about how I would make my coffee in the morning: pour over or French press. Last Night I stumbled through a conglomeration of thoughts, kissed by the THC floating around my skull. Last Night I was rocked to sleep by a trembling Earth, a spinning room, bliss.

Today I made my coffee French press. Today my coffee is bitter. I struggle to remember what happened Last Night.

[perlogmeg-blog]

Long Term Relationship

Hug me again.

My head begins

to ache when I've gone

too long without your breath.

Kiss me again.

I part my lips to meet

you!

taste different than I remember.

[perlogmeg-blog]

1st Pt 2.

In essence, I am just a girl with a very normal life. I have experienced nothing notable nor am I born of some outlandish and exotic blood-line. But for me to carry on, as though my life is not as noteworthy as anyone else, would be a gross injustice on part of myself.

I am not here for you. You are not here for me, you are not really here at all. I am here so I do not forget, so I do not lose.

[perlogmeg-blog]

Here are some facts:

My name is Megan.

Megan is a Welsh name, which was originally a pet name form of Meg or Meggie.

Meg or Meggie were originally short for Margaret. Margaret is Greek for "pearl."

Pearl in English translates to "perlog" in Welsh.

Perlogmeg. A name which could roughly be translated to MegMeg... if you're high enough.

So you know my name, that I am over analytical, and dabble in cannabis use.

Some other facts:

I am 22 years old, have a cat named Marlowe, have spent a majority of my life in what most would deem "small towns." I recently spent time a brief amount of time in a "beach city" and did not adjust well to the change of scenery. For some time now, I have been going through what some would consider "a tough time" but I am doing fine.

I was born 3 months after my parents got married, in August of 1999. From my mom I got intelligence and anxiety. And from my dad, a sense of humor and obscure, introspective tendencies. My brother, 4.5 years younger than me, is the most wonderful human I have ever encountered. He is, in every way, better than me and he is the only person I would ever be glad that they are. (I am competitively self-centered).

I have a partner, boyfriend, best friend...? I have Devin. He is most everything that I am not: relaxed, cool, athletic, effortless, creatively motivated... tbc.