mundane
i hate cooking. i hate it. i hate food too. i hate it most because its always interrupting me. i'll be enjoying a perfectly good existential crisis when my body annoyingly draws attention to itself. it always wants something. eat. sleep. shit. its distracting. especially when i try to rise above. get philosophical. or even sad. and just when i'm preparing myself for a good cry and a good write. thats when i suddenly need to eat. i hate food. but not as much as i hate cooking. its a tragedy. whatever my mother tells me to do, its lost on me. she makes it taste good. i make little black coals. she said use onions. stupid onions. they made me cry and washed away my stupid mascara. its sitting there, in the kitchen. smelling like shit. my proud trophy. the fruit of my labor. mocking me. scoffing at me. stinking with glee.
enough about that. i'll eventually eat it. out of principle.
i went to the bookstore today. three actually. i was looking for a book, a relatively well-known book, a reasonably pretentious book. and i didn't know who wrote it. i can't just go and ask one of the computer clerks to tell me. that takes away my right to make pretentious face when i pay for it. because, as a student, i am necessarily poor, and choose to spend what little i have, not on frivolities, but on intellectual pursuits of the highest kind. so i can't very well ask who wrote it. i looked at all the shelves in the fiction section. all of them. a to z. and i eventually found it, right next to a book i read in glamour about. i had been wanting to read it since then. its very funny. not so pretentious. but funny. so i'm reading that first. and i like it so much that i was going to recommend it to my parents. its about immigrants, so i thought they might like it. but then i got to a sex scene. and not only do i not want my parents thinking that i read about sex, this was sad, ugly, naked, fat people sex. which is infinitely worse for my parents to think i read about. not that there's anything wrong with fat people sex. well, actually to my parents there is. they have a very strange fat phobia. as if being fat signifies defeat. failure. moral collapse. you can imagine what this did to my tender adolescent self image. so i just don't want them to think that i condone fat people immigrant sex. a lecture would ensue.
i can't say i miss lectures much. thats a nice thing about them missing me. they try not to antagonize me when they see me. they still give me strange and irrelevant advice. but they're nice about it. i'm really looking forward to going home. i think there's something unnatural about not seeing your family at least once every couple of weeks. you know, americans are the only ones that do that. leave the nest and what not. strange people.
enough about that. i'll eventually eat it. out of principle.
i went to the bookstore today. three actually. i was looking for a book, a relatively well-known book, a reasonably pretentious book. and i didn't know who wrote it. i can't just go and ask one of the computer clerks to tell me. that takes away my right to make pretentious face when i pay for it. because, as a student, i am necessarily poor, and choose to spend what little i have, not on frivolities, but on intellectual pursuits of the highest kind. so i can't very well ask who wrote it. i looked at all the shelves in the fiction section. all of them. a to z. and i eventually found it, right next to a book i read in glamour about. i had been wanting to read it since then. its very funny. not so pretentious. but funny. so i'm reading that first. and i like it so much that i was going to recommend it to my parents. its about immigrants, so i thought they might like it. but then i got to a sex scene. and not only do i not want my parents thinking that i read about sex, this was sad, ugly, naked, fat people sex. which is infinitely worse for my parents to think i read about. not that there's anything wrong with fat people sex. well, actually to my parents there is. they have a very strange fat phobia. as if being fat signifies defeat. failure. moral collapse. you can imagine what this did to my tender adolescent self image. so i just don't want them to think that i condone fat people immigrant sex. a lecture would ensue.
i can't say i miss lectures much. thats a nice thing about them missing me. they try not to antagonize me when they see me. they still give me strange and irrelevant advice. but they're nice about it. i'm really looking forward to going home. i think there's something unnatural about not seeing your family at least once every couple of weeks. you know, americans are the only ones that do that. leave the nest and what not. strange people.