Monday, April 11, 2005
On Friday night I overdosed on Doctor Who, Old Style, cocaine, weightlifting, and pornography. I let the blinds down when the sunlight morphed into darting sewing needles and my eyes threatened to bleed. I thought I heard the ocean murmuring from a seashell, but it was just my lazy pulse circulating under my earlobes. At noon I took a shower, blew out some red jelly, gargled, then slipped between my downy sheets. I had a great time.
I woke up at four o'clock, wild-eyed and frantic. I checked my telephone. My father had not called. He was, no doubt, hungover like me. Surely by this time in the afternoon he was resigned to bourbon and omelettes. I wasn't exactly raring to go visit the hospital, so my ailing grandmother was shamefully neglected. I began the thawing process.
Sunday I rose at nine and began my recipe. Again. I baked a shank of pork last Tuesday expressly for the bone. Now I could use it for Sunday soup. To my usual recipe I added parsley and some jalapeno jelly my mother had brought me from Arizona. I took special care to loosen the exposed marrow at the bone ends. It really adds life.
I ate seven or eight bowls over the course of the afternoon. I watched three baseball games. I felt giddy and had a silly smile on my face all day long. The breeze combed my hair. The food warmed my tum. The hypnotic monotony of the announcers lullabyed me into blank perfection. Sunday was a good day.
Now I'm back at work. I feel intensely healthy. By my count I've eaten 12 onions, 23 stalks of celery, 14 carrots, 6 cloves of garlic, 9 potatoes, and 15 gallons of spiced water during the past six days. I could lift a house. 10:29 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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