Tuesday, April 18, 2017

I Will Never Eat Stovetop Stuffing Again

Eating pizza in the heavenly spring sunshine, and I've never done heroin, but the combination of the aforementioned might be the same level of high. Fuck...... Yessss......let your eyes roll back. It is probably all the more delicious because, well, it is the most delicious thing ever invented, but also because I am not supposed to eat it. And I'm going to get sick from it later. After carefully considering the cost/benefit analysis....I eat the pizza.

I wonder about people who don't live to eat. Are they colorblind in their tastebuds? Do they really believe that life should be lived without jumping in full tilt into every hedonistic good feeling that can be wrung out of this weird little planet? Yes, I want the sex, yes, I want the chocolate, yes, I want the art, and the babies, and the puppies, and the choir music in cathedrals and the vistas from high mountains, and I don't EVER want to say no to pleasurable experiences for the greater long-term good. With that philosophy, it really is a wonder that I'm not into drugs.

Why are some people so good at diets, and working in cubicles, and wearing short-sleeved dress shirts, doing all their homework, and all that? I don't have that. When I was little, the story of Ryan White was big in the news. He was a kid who died of AIDS. The media made a really fucked up example of him, if you don't remember, because he was an innocent kid, rather than someone who had done something WRONG, like taken drugs or had gay sex, and therefore "deserved" society's horrible treatment.  I remember part of his story was that he refused to have a feeding tube, even though eating was painful, because HE WANTED TO EAT, and fuck everyone who recommended otherwise. That is something I can relate to. I don't want to eat gluten if it isn't THAT good, like...fine, I will never eat Stove Top stuffing again, but no more really good, really hot, New York style? Getdafuckattahere. That is the highest culinary poetry. Literally, I would rather die.

When I was homeless, I spent five dollars once on sparkly jelly bracelets. My boyfriend was livid at my wastefulness. I realized, under interrogation, that I felt quite pleased with my acquisition, and, for me, it was wise spending on that day. I screamed at him,"I JUST NEEDED SOMETHING SPARKLY!" I couldn't find any sorry in my heart. In A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, every starving urchin got coffee to drink or not drink, and there is some quote about having something to waste, even in poverty. Or something to eat, even in gluten-allergy.

I've been back reading the archives of the dead blogger. God, she was so good. God, she had such voice. God, I saw so much of myself in her...suburbanite's daughter gone bad...spoiled white intellectual fascinated with the other side of the tracks....She cared about the same sort of stuff that I did. She was the kind of person that I am looking for around Rednecktopia, and I don't find. She had books to write still, but she died anyway, yet I did everything possible that I wanted to do, but I'm still here, getting fat on pizza in the sun.

love and light,
your friend,
Hil













1 comment:

  1. I'm glad you're among the living, and that you never chose drugs. My kids' dad chose the drugs: heroin, cocaine, peyote, meth, pot, alcohol, and everything else he could get his hands on. He also died age 37. He was my ex, but he was also my kids' dad, and I was sooo angry at him for leaving them behind.

    Drugs aren't noble. An overdose is a nasty thing. It's no better to die of the aftereffects: the heart that fails after you come to your senses and get sober, because each year of abuse steals away 4 or 5 years of its beats.

    I grieve for the living; for those who lost the words, the hugs, the love, and all the other wonderful things drugs took away.

    And I rejoice that you will be there to share them with those who love you. You chose life. You chose the puppies, and the pizza, and the children who grow up with a mom who loves them (despite their current teen attitudes.) You chose art, and driving, and pears, and a husband, and all the things that MATTER. And you are the meaning of awesome.

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