uncreative writing

99 heads of kohlrabi on the wall, 99 heads of kohlrabi. Take one down, pass it around, what the fuck is kohlrabi, ya’ll?

That’s kohlrabi, man. That’s it. It’s a root vegetable. It’s actually quite delicious. I have nothing profound or witty to off you in regards to kohlrabi. I could tell you it’s a little starchy with a nice watery finish. I could tell you I like to eat it raw with the slices lightly salted. I could tell you it’s often recommended as a filler vegetable for soups. But I couldn’t tell you a tangentially related, humorous anecdote about kohlrabi. Nope, I couldn’t do that. OR COULD I?

Still nope. See that was a little thing called a transitional sentence setup. It built up all this anticipatory desire in you to read on, but when you did, you found that nothing had really changed. That’s pretty damn anti-climactic, isn’t it? I thought so, too. Which is why TWISTING THE PLOT, BRO. Sorry, I did it again. I’m a habitual liar. I can’t help myself sometimes. Like when I see sliced kohlrabi and a shaker of sea salt sitting on the counter. Boom, sudden kohlrabi anecdote. I lied AGAIN! Believe me, I’m as disappointed in this post as you are.

OR AM I? Wait, that sentence needed to go up at the end of the last paragraph! Damn. I’d edit it, but it’s too late. This is all stream of conscious, first person P.O.V. narrative. This is just my experiences. Oh dude! I just remembered how I used to mispronounce kohlrabi so it sounded like I was saying “Cholera-be”. That wouldn’t be very enticing to eat. Cholera. That’s a disease that makes you spray a dangerous amount of liquid shit out your ass. That’s the direct opposite of kohlrabi, which is high in fiber content, making you shit a normal amount of solidified shit. This post just got gross. I’m sorry about that. OR AM I?

Nailed it. Nailed this post so hard. Just like I nailed up a picture of kohlrabi with outdated, left-justified paragraph nails. Only we don’t use nails on the internet. We use <HTML> and other web languages. Web programmers are just futuristic construction workers, man. What’s that got to do with kohlrabi, you ask? Nothing. It has nothing to do with kohlrabi But you already knew that. OR DID YOU?

Stop reading this post and eat some kohlrabi. It’s pretty good.

This beet reminds me of this dude I used to know, but I’m having a hard time remembering his name. I know it started with like a vowel or a consonant though. God, what was it? We totally went to middle school or high school or college together. Or maybe it was work? Either way, he was sort of this smallish tall, skinnier dude with a bit of heft. Light-dark hair. Like really forgettably memorable, you know? Always there with the crowd, doing his own thing kind of guy. He had street smarts or book smarts but not the other, or maybe both. Do you know who I’m talking about?

Oh come on, I know you know the guy I’m talking about! The dude with the face? Two ears, mouth, eyes? Ate food for lunch? Used his arms all the time? Relied on legs to walk? Wore shirts and pants? Bled blood? Nothing? Come on! Help me out here. This beet is exactly like that guy was! I need his name so I can rock this wicked, tangled spidering root of an analogy about how their under-the-radar prominence really distinguished them, allowing them to hide away unnoticed. You know what I mean?

That guy was EXACTLY like this beet, always clean with a little bit of dirt. He was always kind of a funny, solemn guy, rocking indifferent passion about things and such? Ugh, still nada? I feel like we’re getting nowhere with this. You really can’t remember that dude? You’re not being much help here, my disembodied reader of taproot rooted blog posts friend. I’m trying to really unlock the mystery of the beet for you, opening your eyes to our bulb borscht bubbler. But I can’t do that without that one guy’s name. You know, the guy from the earlier paragraphs who used to that thing at that place? You know? No?

Well damn. I guess this beet has the upper hand. It doesn’t need to rely on names or memories. It just exists, being itself. Popularly unpopular. Just like that guy… or wait, girl? Well shit, that might be the problem. I think I was thinking of a chick this whole time. Yeah, she was definitely female if she wasn’t male! Long-short hair? Hey, wait! Where are you going? We can figure this out! We’re almost to a great blog post! ALL WE NEED IS THAT NAME!