Cork

The following, or something in genesis of substance like it, entered my conscious mind last night and, having been largely ignored, rather than return to silent oblivion as would be usual, has been persistent enough to re-enter it again a few minutes ago, and so I can hardly go on ignoring it but had better try and write it down.

A cork was floating in a glass of water, some of it naturally submerged below the waterline, some of it above - though why I imagine anyone would need that clarified is a bit of a mystery. So there it was anyway bobbing about gently, even imperceptibly, though if someone banged against say the table for instance on which the glass rests, the introduction of a bit of sudden violence to the environment . . . or say if someone lifts the glass, placing it down again maybe with a bit of a bang . . . precarious even so perhaps momentarily the cork's remaining within the glass . . . but anyway regardless, in it, the glass of water, it remains, sedately in general but with some fluctuations.

But then - carelessness, deliberateness, somehow - the bottom of the glass breaks though perfectly cleanly, the rest of the glass remaining intact, unflawed, and out the water pours down the bottom, but the width of the glass was wider a fair bit at the top than at the bottom, and while initially of course the cork followed in the wake or along with the vanishing water, when it got to the bottom of the damaged glass it wedged and remained there, stuck.

Why this banal vision bothered itself with me, not once but twice, I have no idea. Presumably it thought itself possessed of some great inner substance and so whose embodied incarnation had to be insisted on; but whatever it is and even if it is, this substance, I'm not for now all that interested. Maybe if it had come in some more colourful, fantastic form, I would be more interested, intrigued . . . but then again I might have dismissed it out of hand - as vulgar, trite, whatever. And also to be fair, maybe it, this image of cork and glass, had to come in precisely that form or, whatever it is, it would no longer be itself but some other substance altogether. But then again maybe it's all just a random image being treated with far more respect than it deserves but as of now who am I to judge.