reading books this summer.
right now it's
Our Kind, a biological
and anthropological survey of human
culture. reading the chapters on meat
consumption made me crave meat.
a similar thing used to happen when
reading Steinbeck, who described food
in a way that always made me hungry.
so when john suggested getting an organic
freerange chicken for dinner, i pretty much
lost my head. the rain had just started, we
were standing outside homegrown market,
and i jumped up and down saying, "i'm
going to eat it! i'm going to eat it!"
john baked it right, the flesh was
falling off the bone. i dug in,
soaked buttered bread in fat,
chewed the cooked flesh.
it made me feel sick.
why did i do it? words
can have the same effect.
i wake up--who put those
thoughts there? be careful!
sarah said the ideas and feelings
we indulge before bed will sink
down deep as our bodies refresh themselves.
what are you doing here? staring into a body
cavity, a chicken abyss, the illusion of flesh.
you better take a shower before going to bed.
i've been reading books this summer; putting
people in my head. chew 'em up, spit 'em out.
dial up, transfer files, here you are. hungry yet?
i wish there were a kitty here to walk across
the keyboard: laiwueyr JHFA PSIASFIHUESAUHFI[ry3
fpi eiusga uae duh jgh aerhg[a9wtQWRJEB FJHBAG e98y7tasu8flsb yiefdk;s
there you have it: sense in nonsense. time for some