perishable: stress

January 17, 2007

Buying persihable food items maps out my life in a way that makes me uncomfortable.  There is nothing more stressful than a couple of bananas going from green to yellow to brown on my kitchen counter.  (This is hyperbole.  Of course there are things that are more stressful than rotting bananas.  I’ll get into that later).  I hate throwing away foodstuffs because I could not fit them into my gut in sync with their tiny ripe lifespan.  I hate eating a banana out of a sense of obligation and thrift even when I don’t want a banana solely because this is the day before the banana turns to mush and spontaneously generates tiny winged flies.  Bananas should not control my behavior.  But I love fresh food.  And what if I want a banana when there is no banana around? 


I am the big bang.

January 17, 2007

I like running.  Specifically, I like running on a treadmill where I’m in control of each and every variable.  I can watch miles line up like obedient children spawned from the globs of energy melting off my butt.  The size of my butt is inversly proportional to distance.  How refreshing!  How logical!  I like that there is no weather, no incline unless I choose to create it.  I like listening to music while my body performs simple combustion.  Specifically, I like listening to loud music that drowns out ragged breaths and pounding feet.  Breathing and feet pounding are uncomfortable noises weighted in reality.