Procrastination Station

This is the best paragraph ever written. It describes an Irish breakfast.

"You sat at the window above the hum and the buzz of the street below. At first you gulped and chewed and then decelerated as you realised that your hunger would be perfectly assuaged. Then you could eat contemplatively, picking bits and choosing bits you thought would make an interesting ensemble. You craned your neck occasionally, like some astronomer, gazing downwards at the Milky Way of interweaving passing heads. The chinking noise of cutlery and crockery cut through the muted traffic noise. You pronged the last inch of Hafner's sausage on to a tiny toast triangle that you'd custom-cut, and married it to the last remaining quarter of an egg yolk. You ate these morsels in one forkful. Then a gulp of tea. You settled back contentedly. An enormous cut-glass ashtray came from nowhere. Plates vanished, and you put your elbows on the table and lit up. The bill came in its own good time, unhurriedly. You looked with some amazement at the spiky old-fashioned pencil-writing, quoting prices current in the Fifties. You paid the carbon-slip. Then you descended to the mundane busy street. Absorbed into the crowd, you let yourself be taken by its flow, and became another corpuscle in the bloodstream.

We would spread the word about this last word of an eating-house. No one ever found it, nor could we again when we determined that we would, because the universe is often stumbled on by accident, or visualised in dreams."


How great is that? I love it. It's from Last Night's Fun by Ciaran Carson.

But maybe I'm biased because of the diet I'm on right now. :)