Untimely #20 – Three Thoughts

I don’t cook for one. Cooking for me, see, it’s social. Baking. No one bakes alone. You bake for someone. You want to eat cookies, you buy cookies. You open the jar and take a cookie and eat it. You don’t mix flour and beat eggs and melt chocolate and then eat a cookie three hours later when by now your stomach is like ten times emptier and you probably would die just as soon as eat a cookie because you already ate ten an hour ago when you couldn’t wait for the fucking things to bake. So really your stomach wasn’t very empty, but it would have been entirely empty minus the acids that swirl about like Grand Rapids, MI, in that empty belly of yours. But now they rush and flood a mountain of cookie debris and you feel ill as you get fatter. Aren’t cookies grand? At this point you probably wish you ate a vegetable, unless of course it was eggplant, because eggs aren’t very healthy, especially if you cook them in oil. Olive oil is good for your skin, but too much will give you indigestion.

In the mountains, though, you can eat anything. Because you are chopping wood and herding goats and anything you want to eat you’ve either got to kill and skin or farm and dig and wash and chop. That’s why everyone smokes in the mountains, because everything takes about fifty times longer to do and also the air is cleaner, so it doesn’t even matter. When the earth is overpopulated, we’re all going to go up the mountains and leave the stinking cities to the rats. When the ice caps melt will there be penguins in Miami?

On my way out of the subway this morning there was a girl in hot pink sandals sitting on the steps. She smelled like piss in the most foul way. Sharp and sour, like she’d washed her clothes in it.