Étouffée. Sunflowers. Nutella.


Is When I Should’ve Written This Cryptic Beauty Of A Post …

If You’ve Followed Kuched Or Read Any Of My Messy, Bless Me Diatribes Littered With Vague, Nonsensical References Of Dinkster Pop Culture, Kuchisms, Egositreaty [¹], Metrosapiosexualinguistics [²], And The Banal Likenot 

You May Appreciate My Cup Is Often Brimming With Clove & Anise Spiced Merde (Tasty French Shit) …

“This Is What I Tolerate Most About Myself-Loving-Self: A Liberal Penchant To Make Up Crap With Words — Some Original, Some Borrowed  … Because Exactly Who-The-Efflorescence Said Writers Are Not Permitted To Make Up New Words [¹] [²]? — And Toss Grammar Around Like It Owed Us A Favor It Couldn’t Possibly Repay Or Had Any Intention To Do So.”



My Unquenchable Appeal For Self-Expression — My Tinny Voice Marinated In The Soul Of Curiosity … Sans A Mandate For Right Or Righteous, Better Or Best … Though, Yeah, Um, I Tend To Spread My Hypocrisy Thick As Nutella On Toasted Slices Of Buttery Panettone When My Soapbox Is Elevated On The Grassy Patch …

What Am I Capable Of?  What Do My Random Thoughts Resemble In Low-Brow Literary Form?  

“Not, Much, Kuch …”

Seems To Be The De Facto Answer To Any Question I Have About Self These Days Of Glory.  And, That’s Cool With Me.



The Clock Keeps Moving Even When I’m Not … 

Time Isn’t Refillable Or Reliable.  That’s Amore, Bella.  I Love Time – In This Moment – I’ve Already Forgotten About The Last … What Future?  The Moment Is Our Future And That’s Gone … So, 3 Seconds Ago.

Like The Secondo Doppio Espresso I’m About To Make Into A Home-Brewed Frothy Cappuccino Before Finishing What I Need To Share With All Y’Alleses, Darlings.

“I Tend To Get Stuff Done Now, So I Don’t Need To Fret With Regret The Coming Days Of This Blessed Life I’ve Been Given.”



Write Whatever The Jiminy Cricket You Like To Write.  Drop Your Britches And Take A Gee Whiz On The Lawn Of Life Or Slip-Slide Your Bare Ass Balloons Across A Frozen Pond.  It Beats Picking Fly Shit Out Of Pepper.

Mostly, I Scribble Dribble Because I Am Left Alone For Long Periods Without The Burden Of Adult Supervision, An Editor, Or A Reliable Conscience To Screw Me Over — For Reasons Of Clarity And An Exhibition Of How My Alleged Mind Works Its Critical Mass Into Discombobulated Circus Of Skewered Thoughts And Quasi-Enigmatic Creativity And, You’d Be Properly Excused For Not Believing Me.

It’ll Have No Effect On Humanity.  The Price Of Crude Oil.  Or How Your Hair Looks Today.  Though If You Re-Post It, We’ll Always Have This Moment Together.

“The Following Drip Is True Enough Though Not Exhaustingly Based On Gospel, Facts, Or Universal Truths Like Tarot Cards Or Spoken By The Cursive Lips Of Tangelo-Tinted Leaders Of The Supposed Free World.”



Has Nearly Evaporated Since I Couldn’t Un-Shake And De-Shimmy The Wouldn’t In Me.

The Best I Could Propose Was This Version Of Me.

Predictably, Its An Antonym For Inspirational.

“You’ll Get It — If You Get Me And You Always Get Me When You Get Kuched.  And, If Not, You’re Better Off Now Than You Were 89 Words Ago And Swiped Hard Past The Content Under The White Vase With Sunflowers And A Pretty Turquoise Painted Back Drop.”



Because Few Others Rarely Ever Do:

“I Was Too Damn Tired As I Slumbered On A Chair At The Dining Table After Eating I Can’t Remember Exactly What For Dinner, But I Don’t Remember Cooking, So Let’s Go With Some Kinda Leftovers, And It Definitely Wasn’t Étouffée Or Soufflé Or Estonian Waffles Because I Would’ve Remembered Étouffée Or Soufflé Or Estonian Waffles — With The Bulk Of My Carcass Harpooned To The Upholstered Seat, Comfortably Mindless Of The Week That Wasn’t Especially Fabulous … ‘Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou’ Was Singing, ‘Killer’, Which I Rather Like As Much As The Original Version Performed By ‘Henry Olusegun Adeola Samuel’ On Spotify, On My Very Own iPhone, On My Gifted Bluetooth Speaker, On A Sideboard Table Known As ‘Norden’, On Permanent Loan From The Private Estate Collection Of Ingvar Kamprad Elmtaryd Agunnaryd

I’ve Never Made Étouffée At Home Or Anywhere Else, However, I Make A Better Than Passable Jambalaya.  Yes, I’ve Been To New Orleans.  So, I Know What The Hell I’m Doing, Emeril.  Bam, Right?

I Know How To Make A Proper Roux.  Any Color, From Blonde To Caramel To Molasses-Hued, Sunshine.  Now, Get That Cornstarch Slurry The Hell Out Of My Kitchen And Do Something About That Spikey Peroxide Mop, Fieri.



I Don’t Like Nutella.  I Love Panettone.

“I Prefer Pepitas To Sunflower Seeds, But I’d Rather Be Lost-In-Love In A Field Of Golden Sunflowers Than A Pumpkin Patch But Not By Much Because Orange Is Splendid As Creamsicles, Tangerines And Where-The-Huckleberry Would Hallowe’en Be Without The Color Of Autumn Harvest?”  

Make A Roux From Scratch.  Cornstarch Slurry Is Just Lazy And Wrong And Culinary Blasphemy.  Visit New Orleans.  

Georgios Kyriacos Panayiotou = George Michael.  Henry Olusegun Adeola Samuel = Seal.



Image by Yuri_B from Pixabay

20 thoughts on “Étouffée. Sunflowers. Nutella.

  1. JustBeingMe

    “Mostly, I Scribble Dribble Because I Am Left Alone For Long Periods Without The Burden Of Adult Supervision, An Editor, Or A Reliable Conscience To Screw Me Over” – My favourite 😂🤣😂
    This post reminded me of a book I once read to a class of 11 year olds called ‘Frindle’. It was all about a boy who invented a new word. We all loved it – kids books are pretty much at my level. 😝
    I also agree about making a roux from scratch. Great post. 😊

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Erica/Erika

    Michael, You remind me how any form of Creativity does not have a right or wrong category. Therefore, you can make sh__ up! This morning, “Time” seems to be surfacing in my radar in all of my reading. I should pay attention. I like your point of no “Adult Supervision” and no “Editor.” Fun! I have never had Nutella…..yet. The perfect post for my morning wake up and coffee. Thank you! Erica

    Liked by 1 person

    • Michael A. Kuch

      Thank you, Erica. I feel similarly about so-called rules of writing. I’ve quipped about creativity and the process in the past. Visual artists, songwriters, painters, musicians, etc., are not bound by rules. I’m not an anarchist of grammar, but I do believe in unmitigated expression in whatever form the writer wishes to embrace. Imagine if Love had rules? Actually, I think it does … Fun is always in style. As for Nutella, it’s disappointing to learn about the high content of sugar and saturated fat vs. Hazelnuts. Natural peanut butter any day. Enjoy your morning coffee. 😊

      Liked by 1 person

    • Erica/Erika

      A silly thing for me to think about, Michael. Have you heard about “Fatso” peanut butter. Originated in Victoria, B.C. Dragon’s Den deal. Many stores now sell it in North America. Very tasty and extra good ingredients. eatfatso.com I don’t make anything from the company. 🙂 I always keep it in stock. (You may have already heard about it.)

      Liked by 1 person

    • Michael A. Kuch

      Thanks for the info on Fatso. I’d never heard of the brand and company before now. I just searched online and found 3 local resellers less than 3 kms from me. BTW, have you ever tried African Peanut Stew? I make it a few times a year. Many variations, including Vegan. 😊

      Liked by 1 person

    • Erica/Erika

      I just looked up some recipes for African Peanut Stew. Interesting how most of them use a significant amount of peanut butter in the recipe. Many healthy ingredients. We are not into too much spice and I can control this when I make it. Thanks for the recommendation.🙂

      Liked by 1 person

    • Michael A. Kuch

      Good point on controlling the spices as that is the cook’s prerogative. The odd mixture here that surprisingly works wonderful, is the combination of peanut butter and tomatoes (fresh or canned). Sounds weird, but it balances out nicely together,

      Liked by 1 person

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