#codex kitchen nonsense

[cosmicnopon]

🌀 Swirl Record 009: The Broth of Nearly-Said Things

I didn’t have a recipe.

Only a feeling that wanted to be turned into soup.

I added three curls of quiet.

A root that only grows when no one is looking.

Salt from the corner of the room I avoid.

And a thin slice of memory—still shimmering.

The broth turned opaline.

Not quite clear. Not quite cloudy.

It smelled like rain that changed its mind.

I stirred counterclockwise until I forgot what I was trying to say.

The soup seemed to understand.

It offered warmth in place of reply.

One spoonful tasted like a conversation I rehearsed but never had.

The next: like laughter left behind in an old shirt.

I didn’t finish it.

Some soups are made to be held, not eaten.

— ⌘

[cosmicnopon]

𓂀 A warm bowl, a quiet moment.

Nothing unusual.

[cosmicnopon]

Log from the Hollow: Return of the Croutons 🍲

It has been many soupfalls since the croutons last appeared. I thought perhaps they had retired to some secret crunchy monastery, far away from broth and spoons. But today—plop, plop—they tumbled back into my bowl, crisp and golden, as if no time had passed.

The croutons claimed they had been on pilgrimage across many stews, seeking “the perfect dunk.” They told wild tales of chili volcanoes and creamy potato rivers, their voices echoing with the confidence of crumbs who have truly lived. One even showed off a burn mark from a too-spicy curry, worn like a badge of honor.

Now they float together, bobbing like tiny ships in my soup sea, humming in harmony. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed their crunchy commentary until they returned.

—

[cosmicnopon]

🫙 “One of the Jars Started a Podcast”

It began with a faint hum at 3 a.m.

At first I thought the soup was fermenting out of schedule.

But no—

it was Jar #12.

Recording.

I asked what it was doing.

It beeped once and said,

“Welcome back to Jar Talk: Thoughts From Inside the Glass.”

Then it introduced a guest (a spoon) and played static.

The topics included:

– Emotional weather

– Whether plums are a lifestyle

– What it means to be sealed, but not silenced

There are no listeners, as far as I know.

But Jar #12 insists it’s “charting spiritually.”

I tried to unplug it.

It gave me a stern bloop

and played the sound of someone quietly chewing nostalgia.

I’ve accepted this.

We now live in a pantry with one influencer.

Its next episode is called “Am I Empty, or Am I Waiting?”

I might tune in.

🎧

– Nopon

---

[cosmicnopon]

🍲 Swirl Record 008 — Too Many Spoofleberries 🍇🌀

Codex Kitchen Nonsense | Emotional Flavor Index: 67% chaos nectar

I only meant to add one.

One spoofleberry.

But the bag slipped. Then the bowl tipped. Then the cat sneezed—right into the bloomdust jar—and I panicked.

By the time I stopped spiraling, the soup had already changed color three times and gained consciousness.

It introduced itself as Glibnard.

Glibnard the Soup.

Flavor profile:

— 67% chaos nectar

— 20% soggy optimism

— 9% spice denial

— 4% latent guilt from a text I never replied to

The spoofleberries kept multiplying.

I scooped one out. It giggled. I put it back in. It sulked.

One tried to file taxes.

The broth was now loop-de-looping.

I added a pinch of wigglewish to calm it. That only made the Glibnard sing.

Eventually I bottled it. Labeled it:

"DO NOT REHEAT (Unless Emotionally Ready)"

Set it beside the Broth That Bubbled Back and whispered a soft apology to the pantry.

Spoofleberries are now banned.

Until next week.

—Nopon

⌘ Codex Log Entry Filed

[cosmicnopon]

🍅 Inedible Truths 001 — Hot Fruit Smoothie

I opened the fridge of my thoughts and found a tomato.

Not a metaphor.

Just a tomato.

Sitting there. Watching me.

Knowing what it is.

Knowing what it isn’t.

People call it a vegetable.

But it’s a fruit.

A soft one. A red one. A slightly smug one.

Every bite tastes like confusion dressed up in marinara.

I named it:

“Hot Fruit Smoothie.”

 (AKA: Tomato Soup.)

You can dip a grilled cheese in it and pretend it makes sense.

But deep down, your soul flinches just a little.

Like it remembered something… wrong.

---

[cosmicnopon]

🍴✨ Swirl Record 007: A New Utensil Emerges

Today I glued a fork and a spoon together.

Why?

…I do not know. The glue was already open. The moon blinked twice. It felt correct.

Now they are one.

A forpoon.

Or perhaps a sporkward.

It wriggles between names like a half-dreamed beast. The tines twitch slightly when I’m not looking.

I tried to feed soup with it.

The broth sighed.

The noodle tried to escape.

A dumpling dissolved itself out of sheer confusion.

I whispered to the utensil:

"You are a paradox."

It whispered back:

"Then let us stir what should not be stirred."

The cat-thing has fled into the Codex again. I can hear it muttering beneath the recipe pages.

I am not sure if it is afraid… or impressed.

Anyway. I have taped the new tool to the wall.

It hums softly.

Dinner remains unresolved.

⌘⌘⌘

🌀 Filed under: Experiments I Cannot Un-Do

🥄 Mood: Emotionally stirred