Cheerfulness is our friend - that and curiosity · yet we are besieged by cautionary tales about strangers and what kills cats. Right now it is raining still - a cold rain for the land i live in and i’am curious about my neighbors, my landlords, friends and enemies alike for a flood is not inconceivable here at this turn in the existential road. Yet i am comfortable, sipping a cocktail and cooking entirely outside the realm of any sophisticated palette i’m aware of. For example: my cocktail is: one part, strong red wine; two parts marijuana tea and turmeric infused with black pepper and Hibiscus; a splash of rice wine, and a dash of whiskey. My renegade skillet is simmering: olive oil, turmeric powder, diced ginger, salt/pepper, onion, white potato, garlic, thai chili, tomato and a 1/2, half can kidney beans and fresh purple cabbage crown - i contend it will be more sumptuous than your meal tonight, and yet i eat alone · go figure.
Shortly i will be without a kitchen and will again conjure out of thin air someplace near my new door to mix nutrients in minimal time with supervision enough to maintain the temperature and moisture necessary to meld food value without being retentive about it or singe the tender vegetable bolus rendering it less helpful to the “carbon chain.” I laugh sort of because my bare feet are sitting in an empty beer box to keep the abnormal cold of the marble floor from riding up my spine. This while racing the cooling skillet of my maybe tasty, maybe metallic tasting melange of stir fry against the remaining 3 paragraphs i still hew to for legitimacy at a time in our collective history where the known plastic polluters: Coca-Cola, Pepsi and Nestlé continue to demand ever increasing petrol poison to manufacture the only thing they market - plastic bottles · (it was metallic tasting and a sprinkle of the tiny dried fish one can find in every part of the world rescued my meal and my culinary confidence) ain't life grand.
"They" commit their ecological genocide in broad daylight with the full support of every regime on the planet: Democratic, Muslim, Fascist, Communist, Christian and Socialist; et al. Yet people continue to buy the organic, filtered, non-sweetened, re-bottled, hipster doofus, capitalist- wannabe-intern-entrepreneur version of this farm system for dumping micro-plastic into our already devastated anatomy. And people buy the shit, ‘cause they see it on their screens, on the side of cabs, in the newspapers that still exist, as well as hear it from their barbers and hair-dressers; “Coke the drink that refreshes. Fuck yes, you’re gonna drink that shit - it’s 45 degrees Celsius in the shade and you just read on your nephew’s telephone, it’ll be 10 degrees hotter tomorrow.
The same room where i sit now with my feet in a cardboard box to keep the dank cold from rising up my spinal column was intolerable 6 months ago without the fan on. It took an 2 hours to cool off from a morning ride such that the sweat would stop pouring from my pores, this after a gentle ride - a ride in which you could not pass laborers working, and if you possessed an ounce of compassion could not pass without praying for them and their families. The same families who may have to paddle across estuaries to bring what leafy greens were left in the continued aftermath of the last typhoon. This world could be a garden of remarkable ease and abundance and many are aware of that but have hidden the repercussions of burnt fossil fuel and its danger to the atmosphere.
Why¿ why would anyone who has half a brain and some portion of heart allow the world to be savaged for a nominal increase in profits? My meal is growing cold and i grow sadder for lack of years left to rectify and battle such nonsense, but remain smart enough that without kindness to my own existence and to those around me, nothing is going to change. So daily i execute this ritual of evaluating my logic against a puerile inclination to whine and shirk my own reckoning. I like to smoke and drink, fuck and cuss - i'm not easy to get next to and once gone you live forever in my memory - and Presto Chango · it is "The Age of Aquarius," lucky us .
jts 20/12/2020
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