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predictable glut

April 3, 2010

Wakefulness is met with a sense of inevitability. I’ve stolen a better man’s double bed in his absence, and it affords me a better sleep. Being a better man, he receives a better bed from our Benefactor (Lat., bene-: good, well & factor: to make). My legs protrude from the end so that I may sleep with my arms thrown up.

I roll out of bed; the room is already empty. Outside my room, the Mezzanine. Two high windows let the sound of the thunderstorm in; dull vibrous rumbles. By the time I wake up, it is often time for lunch: salad that oscillates in composition almost imperceptibly, a hybrid dressing, and some cold salad associates. “Wrap” comprises the basal substrate for this most delicate of tasks. My fast-breaking lunch will dictate my demeanour for the day, and it is of the utmost importance that I am at my peak if I am to perform my many duties. So I begin with the wrap: the utilitarian’s bread. It is not glamorous, nor subtle, but what a use it performs! It’s swim-cap consistency is the perfect vessel for foods of mixed viscosity, oh yes. Lay it out flat, check for perforations. Observe it’s circular nature, it fits snuggly to your plate. Now, choose your media.
Salad is a mainstay here: filling, cold, but sometimes lacking in taste. Do not misunderstand me: I could eat a good salad from now till the last day, but to construct an excellent meal everyday is too costly. Instead, consider salad’s temperate wife; dressing. My dressing is a proud mixture of vinegars and violent amounts of garlic, and it is here that the wrap is crucial. Breads bred for taste are useless here, dissolving in your hand, or rupturing dramatically in your lap. The dressing is added until the salad is black with our miscible oil slick. Take the edges of the wrap, fold a section inward. Proceed clockwise, fold another edge on top of it. Proceed to do this until you achieve a dressing-proof pentagonal parcel. What’s that? It enters your mouth perfectly? Why yes, yes it does.

Our second attempt will expand this erotic threesome, for we’re going to be here for some time, and even forbidden amounts of garlic won’t keep us entertained forever. Like a pubescent explorer then, we survey the other foodstuffs: plastic-wrapped latex cheese, fluorescent purple textured meat. The pale globes of boiled eggs, peaking over the lip of their bowl. Cheeky. Tall column of pepper, a veritable taste-weapon. Maybe, maybe, some fried bacon, cut finely in a pile on a saucer: you take a little and rub it on your tongue. Past experiences with bacon tell you it’s of a pretty decent grade.

Remember, be sensible, responsible. As much as you’d like to believe otherwise, you’ll only be hungry for so long. You watch the others for ideas, but food is a personal thing. Its not that you disapprove of their tastes, it’s just “not be for you”; that’s okay. There won’t be any judging here this evening, just a group of people, experimenting with a cold salad.

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One comment

  1. nice reading the blog,send me an email sometime.haven’t heard from you in a while.



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