outwait outrun outwit





TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


05.24.05, tuesday night

I read cookbooks and books by people who love food the way others window-shop: as if the (re)presentation of the hungered-for thing was a succour for hunger. It works, I think, as long as you like to be hungry. As long as you like to smell something knowing you might never taste it (ever again). As long as you understand, deep down, that you would never be happy if you were sated. Full of everything you've ever wanted to eat. What's to eat after that? That's right, nothing.

Try some MFK Fisher, a good companion since I turned 19. From her, I learned that I was undergoing a sea change and that it would come again and in unexpected ways. How calm I felt after learning the shape, the name, of my dis-ease.





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