MIDNIGHT COOKIE AND THE MUSEUM OF ILLUSIONS
I used to live over Another Part of the Forest, then moved adjacent to The Museum of Illusions, and a midnight cookie shop. It’s like waking up next to a scented mall or airport supplier of an oversized pretzel. An invasive scent. I hate the color purple in branding. That’s what the world cringe was made for. It doesn’t make me hungry. It makes me recoil.
The Museum of Illusions, we noticed last night while walking home, is brightly lit inside, which seems to contradict the idea of illusory space. How do you have an illusion with full-on bright fluorescent light? Should it be called, The Museum of Revealed Illusions? The Museum where Illusions are Broken. The Museum of Un-Facilitated Illusion.
In Kentucky, there is the Creation Museum, where you can see the story of how the world was made by God in seven days and go onto a full-scale Noah’s Ark. A girl I traveled with to the Bahamas, a buxom child, about 6’2, went with her boyfriend to this museum of history and was accosted by a mother and son.
I remember on our trip together, this well-endowed redhead kept her scuba suit half unzipped, as to reveal a vast amount of cleavage. She did not need or sport a life vest. None of us did. While at the museum, the mother came up to her, exclaiming, “I can’t believe you would tempt my son with your titty canyon.” “Zip up your shirt!” Her prompt reply, “get your son’s eyes out ‘a my canyon. I don’t have to put anything away. God made my titties, and they're here to stay.”
In the Museum of Illusions, there is a line during the week to get in. Middle school-aged children awaiting science and awe. There is also a line to the midnight cookie shop. I have begun scouting the price of M&M’s across the city as an investigation into economics and access. Duane Reed jacks up the price- corner stores offer two for one. More money, more power. This is a story of economics, power, faith, titty canyons, and cookies. Where do we go from here? I’m not sure what else there is to say.