SOME OF US ARE CRIPPLED

This blogger has always been a fan of the absurd and the painfully inappropriate. Twice in the past week my apartment mate took over the kitchen to cook scrumptious foods for the man in her life, that being the fellow I have dubbed "Wheelie Boy", because the poor bloke rolls around life in a wheelchair.

No, sorry, I am not particularly sympathetic to his plight. We all have problems in life, and each person has a cross to bear.
Life sucks a bit at times.
Tough.


Some of us haven't been touched by any other human being in ages.
Which is a quandary, because random body contact is almost always a pain in the ass, as well as very disturbing. One needs to know the other person well, and both people have to be gender-appropriate for each other AND emotionally close, for any fanny patting at all.

Which is neither here nor there.


In any case, Wheelie Boy.
And his lovely wheelchair.


Here's a song that would make NO sense to him.
It is very inappropriate for a man in his situation.


SUNSHINE ON LEITH -- FIVE HUNDRED MILES


[SOURCE: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZ4Ib-7fJqY.]


When she is in there cooking for him I cannot use my own damned kitchen. This happens too often for my taste, although the chile relleno earlier in the week, and the bitter melon with chicken over rice (涼瓜雞球飯) which I ate more recently, were both delicious. Despite eating by myself it was fun, because seeing other people enjoying their food while unconsciously displaying their social peculiarities is always a show.
And yes, there was hot sauce in both places.

From my point of view, it is a pity that Charlie and Craig Reid never mention milk-tea, pastries, or bitter melon, in this song. On the other hand it is obvious that it applies entirely and only to someone who can walk. Specifically, a healthy person who has both the energy and the ability to traverse five hundred miles or more on foot.

I really like that aspect.



I'm not really that fond of eating alone. Or drinking milk tea alone. Or enjoying little pastries alone. But being able to walk around afterwards smoking my pipe and wandering over to the alley next to the volley ball court, or down to the park to commune with the parrots, is nice.



I am not apologizing to anybody who feels that this essay required a trigger warning. At times life sucks a bit. That's just the way it is.

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