The Daily Post asks us to write about ” Food for the Soul (and the Stomach)”.
I have a love/hate relationship with food. I love it, it hates me. Or so it seems. Conditioned from an early age that it’s of the utmost importance to have an eighteen inch waist (thanks Mom) I’ve been struggling with my waistline since I was a teenager. I would eat all the time if I could. But I can’t. My low metabolism doesn’t do me any favours either. As far as I’m concerned, food bites.
Nah, food for my soul is language. Words. They float through my mind, calorie free and I breathe them back out onto the page. Yes, okay, sometimes they resemble vomit more than the whisper of a breath, but that’s what polishing is for, right?
Tell us about your favorite meal, either to eat or to prepare. Does it just taste great, or does it have other associations? – the daily post
Though I’m also very fond of Japanese, my favourite meal is English. British English, in particular. (You may notice my spelling of the word “favourite.”) I like to prepare it in the form of fiction; the longer it takes to make, the better. For me there’s nothing better than the smorgasbord of a novel, laid out on a vast table of white and just waiting to be devoured. In one sitting, if it’s delicious enough. I strive to be a master chef, though there are a few masters to whose work I shall never live up.
Words satisfy my hunger for knowledge and for passion; they fill the tastebuds of my emotions with joy.
Oh, and wine is good too.
We Built This City –the Daily Post
The Daily Post prompts us to talk about the city we live in. And yes, home is where our family is. But what about the place where our heart resides?
In this life, I have a family. And I wouldn’t leave them for the world. But my heart resides elsewhere. Perhaps it’s my soul. It’s where I believe, somehow, I belong. If I was to trust in the belief in reincarnation, I would say that I don’t belong in the country in which I was born. I’m not “from” here, originally.
I’ve spoken to many many people who feel the same way. People who are inexplicably drawn to countries other than those in which they live or grew up. We dream of these foreign places. When we visit, we feel at home there. Some say we’re crazy, but there are so many… can it be co-incidence?
Are you one of us?
The Daily Post asks, “Vanilla, chocolate, or something else entirely?”
I’m gonna talk about something else entirely. The straight guys in the audience might want to back out slowly now – or not. Maybe you’ll find this interesting.
Semen. Cum. Jizz. Whatever you want to call it. “They” say (you know who “they” are, right? No? Neither do I.) that what a guy eats will determine what his semen tastes like. I learned this way back in high school – it may have even been in a textbook.
It’s the type of thing that I, as a novelist, might have to research. That, along with “How do you get chlamydia and what happens when a man gets it?”, “What’s the earliest I can find out I’m pregnant?” and “How to go about organizing a public orgy,” would all raise eyebrows among my family members if they were to see my search terms on Google. Thank god (or, well, thank Firefox) for private browsing.
So are there 32 flavours of jizz? I do know the basic flavour is the same, but there are subtleties. Some isn’t as acidic. Some burns the throat. Some loads aren’t as horrible to swallow as others. Regardless, it’s always better warm and straight from the source.
Of course it’s all internet research I’m going by. Honest.
The Daily Post prompt today: Places
Alone. On the back of a horse. The animal walks below me and I sway with its movement, watching the earth pass between its ears, listening to the birds in the distant trees and closer, the shuffle and clump of the beast’s feet shushing through the grass that strains toward the revival of the sun.
I’m riding the fence, checking for breakage. For ways the livestock might escape when they’re set out to pasture. It’s been a long winter – spring is in the air with the scent of mud and the sweat of my horse… the pungent tang of my leather saddle.
My face and fingertips are cold, everything else about me is warm. I’m alive.
I Want To Know What Love Is – The Daily Post.
Love is never wanting to die, not because you’re afraid, nor because you want to live, but because those who love you would miss you.
The Daily Post today posed this question:
Tell us about something you would attempt if you were guaranteed not to fail (and tell us why you haven’t tried it yet).
I would knock on Johnny Depp’s front door and when he answered it (dressed only in a white bathrobe) I would ask to come in. He would, of course, say, “Of course,” and I would follow him to his living room where he would prepare us each a glass of absinthe. We would then proceed to discuss how much he would pay me to allow him to play the lead in my novel-turned-movie which would in turn guarantee that I would be the richest woman in Canada. Why?
Because there are nude scenes in my novel. Of course.
Why haven’t I tried this yet? Only because I’m not finished the final edit…
The Daily Prompt today is:
You are receiving an award –- either one that already exists, or a new one created just for you. What would the award be, why are you being honored, and what would you say in your acceptance speech?
*steps up to the podium*
While I’d like to thank all of the people individually who nominated me for the Humble Award, I don’t want to take up your time.
Thank you all for my nothing. It’s more than I deserve.
*steps down to minimal applause*
The Daily Post prompt today is: What makes a teacher great?
A great teacher of life allows his student to make her own mistakes.
A great teacher of life teaches by example.
These may take longer than to tell, or to teach using books,
but they are lessons more likely to stay with the student throughout her lifetime.
Are you good at what you do? What would you like to be better at?
I had to think about what it is I do. For the purposes of this pseudonymous blog I don’t want to get into what my “job” is–in fact I don’t really have one as such. Yes, I take care of my family blah blah blah… noble work, worthwhile and all that, but what do I do? What’s the core of what I do?
I survive. On limited resources which include (or not) money, energy, focus, stress-induced adrenaline, and laughter. I think it’s that last one that’s key to my survival. Just yesterday I said to someone that if I didn’t laugh I’d cry, so why not laugh?
It’s not survival of the fittest – the fittest I’m not. It’s survival of the funniest. And yeah, most of the time I’m damned good at it. Would I like to be better? Hand me that red rubber ball for my nose and I’ll let you know.
Find the Daily Post here.
The Daily Post’s writing prompt today is: Write a post about anything you’d like — in the style of your favorite blogger. (Be sure to link to them!) You can find it here: “Imitation/Flattery.”
I can think of no one I’d rather imitate than Opinionated Man at HarsH ReaLiTy. Here’s his latest post (at the point of this writing – but not likely by the time you read this) http://aopinionatedman.com/2015/03/05/10-things-i-hate-to-hear
10 THINGS I HATE IN GENERAL
- The fact that the word “general” in my title has a little red squiggly line below it indicating that I spelled it wrong. What the fuck’s up with that? Am I missing something?
- People (not mentioning any names) who leave the bag of milk empty in the fridge. When I want my coffee, I want it now and I want it right damnit!
- The damned snow plow! I swear there’s someone sitting in a car down the street with a walkie-talkie waiting until I finish shoveling and get my boots off so they can fill my driveway back in.
- People who won’t take their turn at a four-way stop sign. Especially the ones that wave you on, even though they’ve been sitting there for ten minutes already and then as soon as you start to move, they do too.
- People who don’t say thank you when I hold the door open for them. That’s just rude.
- The fact that all the stuff I want to eat has all the calories and the stuff I don’t barely has any. Why can’t lima beans take all the calories away from, say, chocolate? I’d stay away from lima beans in a heartbeat.
- Bar owners who indiscriminately fire me from managerial positions when all I did was hire a blind violinist and a deaf piano player. Just because they can’t see/hear what the other is playing…
- Men who leave the toilet seat up. What are you trying to do, drown us ladies?
- Shop owners who place pre-printed signs with “8”s in them upside down. Don’t you see that one circle is bigger than than the other? The big one goes at the bottom. Fix that shit!
Now I’m going to sit in a corner and wait for well… the harsh reality that’s Jason.
*waves and then cringes*