THE ADVENTURES OF AN IRRITANT

Maybe it's the cheese. After pensively chewing some toasted bread and cheese, it struck me that I am a fundamentally boring man. My social life cannot be described as white-hot, more as barely room temperature.
I am not interesting enough to be dynamite.

Nor am I actually a good listener. Apparently that's important too.
Oh sure, I like watching people. But uninvolvedly.
As company, I am vegan-style tofu.
Rather inedible.


CHEESE. TOAST. COFFEE. WHISKY.


Cheese does not normally dis-inspire me so. And it was very good cheese. On sliced baguette, toasted in an iron skillet. Rich, creamy, slightly floral and tangy. An exceptionally likable cheese, which undoubtedly has several friends, despite being but one of many appealing fish in the ocean.
In it's own way, it is a champion.

It was the afterthought to a meal of steamed dumplings.
I had ice-cream between the entrée and the cheese.


My digestive rumbling this weekend was probably more interesting than me. On Friday I used a sambal which was rich with seeds, at least one of which proved indigestible. Yesterday I followed its slow travels from just below the sternum to the dark interior with avid interest, by mid-morning today it had reached a zone with far fewer nerve-endings, or, also a possibility, enzymes, acids, and mucoid secretions had tamed it.
Yesterday's burrito may not have been a wise decision.
All of this has truly been a learning experience.
My mental map of my guts is sharper.
I could draw a diagram.


Of course there's more than just the cheese.
But its charming personality ain't helping.




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