story of a dinner
mail from lumsa
pai… ai vrut poveste, livrez poveste!!!! it’s not going to be „about us”, but you’ll get the idea. plus, i’ll manage to both tell a story, kind of, and be part of this extremely exciting „dialogue” between… myself and i, that consumes itself so candidly on this forsaken blog… which reminds me to state: i’m so getting bored with myself and with the fact that you have to be making money… as opposed to living the bohemian life… but, god, this mkes me think that i am complaining about the same crap everybody complains about… and, don’t i wanna be different???? huh??? i do!!!! i’d rather complain it hasn’t rain in eons and i’m fucking drained and dry, inside out, and sideways, and all around. i’d rather imply that i’m not human and that lack of communication doesn’t bother me in the least, but the lack of storms does; which, by the way, pisses me off just as much, kidding aside.
right this very moment i realize why getting old will eventually bug me: i’ll not be able to act like i do now without being blamed, judged, pointed at, ten times more… for being irresponsible, for not acting my age, for not willing to com[ply with the… rules and regulations. yeah. this must be the reason why i have a tendency to befriend younger people. i’m doomed… either way.
ok. the story. i deviated a lot, but this is part of the „free writing” technique… just write and write and write some more, absolutely everything that comes to mind. anyway, i did censor the train of thoughts to „blank” and „bleep” the very personal hints and the… sexual content, since this is meant to be read by others as well.
yesterday i went to costco. mind you, to buy food!!!! as you well know, every time i attempt such a goal, i somehow fail to do exactly that: buy food. so, i grabbed four bottles of coke, green grapes, feta, grand parisian*, coffee, sugar and pizza. exhausted terribly, after shopping for groceries so heavily, i gave up on the whole concept of buying food, which is clearly beyond my grasp, paid up and went home. needless to say, i was too tired to eat… or even realize i have bought only three articles that qualify as… nutrition. i had coke instead.
however, today, i got hungry!
and this is where the „*” desperately needs to be explained.
asta, evidamente, imi aduce aminte de inventia ta cu asterixurile si „notele explicative” (a propos, ultimul „time”, sau penultimul, are o chestie similara!! m-am gandit la tine instantaneu)… si ma simt compelled sa folosesc si eu stilul; nu de alta, dar vreau sa raman… moderna.
bon. „grand parisian” este o salata, gen verde, cu toate ingrdientele necesare… ca sa ai impresia ca ti-au servit-o unii care stiau ce pisici fac.
plina de incredre, si cu o salivatie destul de puternica, desert pungoiul intr-un castron, desfac cu nerabdare pungulkitele cu ingrediente, oarecum mirata de varietatea si… compatibilitatea lor, dau aiurea cu furculita prin ea s-o amestec si ma infig cuminte la masa. cu dreapta butonam telecomanda dupa un film… perpendicular, cu stanga imi introduceam catinel (nefiind stnagace nimeresc mai greu tintele, asa ca o iau incet, ca sa nu-mi infig furculita in dinti… nas, sau prin apropiere) un manunghi de vredeata in gura.
acuma nu stiu de ce mi-a luat cel putin trei, poate chiar patru mestecaturi si vreo doua inghitiri ca sa ma prind ca este sinstra… ca, frate, nu sunt atat de frantuzita si sofisticata… cum obviously credeam. sa fi fost ocupata mental cu canalele si faptul ca trebuie sa nimeresc un anume unghi intre telecomanda si cable box, sa fi fost faptul ca toate papilele mele gustative erau atat de gata pentru ceva yummy incat s-au prins cu greu ca trebuie sa se revolte? cert este ca in momentul in care amestecul dulce… cu nuca, cranberries uscate, feta cheese si salata creata m-a lovit fix in moalele capului, m-a cuprins o deznadejde cumplita. am uitat si de film, am uitat si de foame si priveam cu dusmanie la marea salata din fata mea. si mi-am zis: ce? ma dovedesti tu pe mine, mai, salata… confuza? no way! asa ca, de data asta stiind la ce sa ma astept, i said to myself that this is a question of… acquiring a taste for the damn thing, and i stuffed my face with a few more bites.
can’t say that i learned to like it, but i did eat more of it. however, the damn combination just didn’t hit the spot for me, so i stopped, dumped it in the sink.. and fed it to the the garbage disposal!!!! the ultimate humiliation! and you know i can’t stand to throw away food, when millions of people are starving, but it gave me no other choice: it was nasty, man! yuck!
and here i am, writing the story of dinner… instead of having dinner.
which brings me to this: if merely feeding myself is so freaking complicated at times and it ends up as such a failure, i’ll leave it to your imagination as to how i handle the rest of what i would commonly call „my life”. this is why attempting a „real” story is out of question for now. it will come… with age. 🙂