My apologies for being away. I've got some shit going on and it's been distracting me more than I want. i just want it known that i haven't given up on this blog and I'll try to catch up with the missing posts. i think i got a decent excuse though.
For those who don't/didn't know...
A little more than 15 years ago, I came home from a nice leisurely bike ride from the near the Lake outside of Del Rio. As I threw my leg off the bike to dismount, I felt a sudden painful tear in the hip of the leg that was supporting my weight. The worst part wasn't the pain, but the sound. I heard the muscle rip. I collapsed to the ground and pulled the bike down on top of me. I floundered under the weight of the bicycle for a few minutes before I was able to crawl out from beneath it and attempt to stand up. I'm sure it wasn't nearly as dramatic as I make it out to be, but I pretty much felt like the only person on earth at that moment.
I limped inside and called my mommy. There was a doctor. There was an XRay. Diagnosis: A torn muscle, the result of strenuous exercise. I was told that it would heal in a short time and that I shouldn't worry too much about it. My limp would recede as the leg got better.
More than a year and a half later, I still had the limp. What's worse was that the tears continued. Never as drastic as the first one, they happened anytime that I experienced any unexpected weight shift that I wasn't braced for. Even something as seemingly harmless as not realizing that there was one more step left on the stairs was enough to pull muscle. Of course, I didn't realize what was happening at the time. I knew I was broken but, initially, lack of health insurance kept me in the dark about my condition. Eventually, you just learn to live with pain and discomfort. It was never severe enough to worry me. I just had a slight pimp limp. That suited me just fine. During Thanksgiving, my Grandfather commented that even HE didn't limp that badly and he was over 70. I laughed.
The final straw came on a Saturday in late '94. I went bowling for the first time. You can already see where this is going. It's basic physics, really. Tork. Redistribution of weight. A weak stress point. Another loud tear. First frame. First ball. Down I went again. I soldiered on in spite of the pain and managed to lead for the first five frames and even managed a couple of awkwardly rolled strikes. I went home, mindful that I had the following day off to rest my leg. By the following Monday, I still had great difficulty putting weight on my leg. I bit the bullet and went to the emergency room.
I was there for hours. Since I wasn't leaking any fluids, I wasn't high on the triage list. (As an aside, I do have to say that the people at South Austin Hospital run a decent ship. I would return there in 2000 for what would turn out to be emergency gall bladder removal. A nice man stuck his finger in my anal cavity while I was there. they run a decent ship.) Eventually I was admitted and X-Rayed. Reviewing the photo, the doctor used words like tumor and bone loss. I don't recall if he ever used the "C" word, but he may as well have. He did, however, admit that it was all beyond his expertise and said he would call for a consultation. He left me alone with my paranoia and made some calls. He returned in minutes and said that I needed to go immediately to the medical mall located across the street. There was a specialist there that needed to see me right away. He handed me the X-Ray, gave me a pair of crutches and told me I had to go see the specialist NOW.
This was the moment that stayed with me. This was when I knew I had Cancer and that I was going to die. I had the entire duration of the walk across the parking lot and the drive next door to contemplate my finite mortality and I came to the conclusion that I had lived a good life. I'd made some mistakes and failed to live up to certain expectations that I'd had for myself, but otherwise, I was happy. I could accept whatever came next.
I worry too much.
The reason the time rush was much simpler than a terminal diagnosis. As soon as I arrived, they rushed me to an exam room and told me to wait. The doctor came in almost immediately and apologized for the rush. He was actually in town from San Marcos and was late getting back. He agreed to see me on no notice because otherwise, I wouldn't be able to see him for another week. that was the good news. The bad news was that even he didn't really have a grasp on what the hell was wrong with me. He knew I had a tumor. But he didn't know what flavor. There's actually a variety. Time for another specialist.
This one was in San Antonio. Dr. Ronald Williams at the UTSA medical center. I've since been informed that if you have to get a tumor removed by anyone in Texas, he's the one to do it. Lucky me. I was diagnosed with a giant cell tumor. Not as scary as it sounds, but a pain in the ass nonetheless.
January 10th 1995 I was admitted into the UTSA medical center. 24 hours later, I had a 20 inch scar and a metal plate in my leg. They initially underestimated the area believed to be affected by the tumor. The projected incision of 10 inches was revised once the surgery was underway and they realized that the tumor was bigger than they thought. They hollowed out the femur, hence the metal plate.
I was off my feet for a month and used a crutch or cane for another two months. It was a fairly dark period. There was much brooding and introspection. Mostly, I just stayed on the couch and watched life pass me by. And eventually, I healed.
Late last year, I began feeling a slight discomfort in the hip socket of the same leg that was affected by the tumor. I was given a fistful of vicodin and a referal to a new specialist. A new set of X-rays showed slight abnormality that was possibly related with post operative healing, but without a set of interim X-rays to compare, it was near impossible to determine if the abnormality was recent or not. I was told to give it a week or two and if it got worse, then we would go from there. The discomfort has now meandered into the realm of pain and I'm back to using a cane for now. I look cool.
Because of the metal plate, I was told that I could have an MRI (not true according to the good people at Austin radiological), so I had a CTScan this past Tuesday. Horrible little procedure that involves the injection of contact dye into the blood stream. Stings like hell and burns your throat when it flows by there. As I walked around the exam area in my hospital pants, with an IV hanging from my arm, I suddenly had an overwhelming sense of Deja Vu. Kind of like when Jack Torrance arrives at the Overlook Hotel in The Shining.
I have a follow up on Tuesday and I suppose I find out one way or another what is to become of me.
This isn't a confessional post or even a biograpical post, really. I just wanted to explain my absence and provide some back story for when someone sees me with a cane and asks, "What'd you do to your leg?", like it's somehow my fault.
What can I say? It's complicated.
Anyway, I gotta go write about some Zombies.
Missy Elliott - Bring The Pain
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Always Chasing Windmills
(today's assignment is less about the 'writing' part, more about the 'creative' part)Your fictional town has just won the rights to a sports franchise. Decide on what this team will look like: what sport it is, the name/mascot, team colors, star players, etc. How does the town react to the new team? Are they elated? Is there some sort of controversy?
Sport: It's a college team, so the name carries to all sports
Team name: The Quixotics
Team macsot: A thin frail Knight in ill fitting armor...obviously. And a fat squatty sidekick.
Colors: gray and light gray
Logo: A broken windmill
The average season starts with unrealistic dreams of playoff victories that end pretty much halfway through the first game of the season. Always finishing last. There are no star players, but the games are almost always sold out. Mostly, people don't come to cheer. They come to heckle and laugh and pour scorn and abuse on our woefully inadequate team. By seasons end, everyone quits, only to start again next year.
Journey - Don't Stop Believin'
Sport: It's a college team, so the name carries to all sports
Team name: The Quixotics
Team macsot: A thin frail Knight in ill fitting armor...obviously. And a fat squatty sidekick.
Colors: gray and light gray
Logo: A broken windmill
The average season starts with unrealistic dreams of playoff victories that end pretty much halfway through the first game of the season. Always finishing last. There are no star players, but the games are almost always sold out. Mostly, people don't come to cheer. They come to heckle and laugh and pour scorn and abuse on our woefully inadequate team. By seasons end, everyone quits, only to start again next year.
Journey - Don't Stop Believin'
What's in a name
OK, so I got chastised today for the topics being harder this round. Between that and my being so exhausted that I didn't go out tonight and am about to go to bed at 12:30, here's a doozy for you:
Write one of those dumb name poems. You know the ones, from second grade. Yeah, use your name. Let's make it challenging by making you use first and last. And while you're at it, write one about your favorite animal or what you wanted to be when you grew up.
Old school fa reals.
(p.s. I know these dumb poems have a name, but i want to go to bed. feel free to bitch or show me up in the comments section)
Actually
Remembered
That
Thoughts of
Hollywood
Indiefilm
Eventually
Failed to materialize
yeah, not as cool an anagram as Noone Ever Really Dies, but there it is.
Concrete Blonde - Still In Hollywood
Write one of those dumb name poems. You know the ones, from second grade. Yeah, use your name. Let's make it challenging by making you use first and last. And while you're at it, write one about your favorite animal or what you wanted to be when you grew up.
Old school fa reals.
(p.s. I know these dumb poems have a name, but i want to go to bed. feel free to bitch or show me up in the comments section)
Actually
Remembered
That
Thoughts of
Hollywood
Indiefilm
Eventually
Failed to materialize
yeah, not as cool an anagram as Noone Ever Really Dies, but there it is.
Concrete Blonde - Still In Hollywood
Cop Out
OK, so I am a little behind on my writing, so I am giving myself a freebie on this one (you should be so lucky that i would give you one-haha!) So, one thing you may not know about me is that I actually get paid to write horoscopes once a week. Sounds fun, right? It's actually a bit harder than it sounds. But why tell you that, when I can make you experience it? Write a horoscope for 3-5 zodiac signs for this weekend. Check out cafeastrology.com (or find something on your own) to learn more about signs and monthly horoscopes for each one. I often consider what is going on in my life and my interactions with my friends when I am writing (Cancers and Pisces are the easiest, lol), so that might be a place to start.
Hey Leo, stop being such a jerk.
Cancer, get over yourself you big pussy!
Pisces...You're Dead Sexy. Don't change.
Leon Russell - Pisces Apple Lady
Friday, January 9, 2009
Like Bookends...
Today, I am inspired by Susanna and the clever title of her blog. So tell me, what exactly would happen if a squid and a monkey walked into a store? Or what would happen if a bull and a flamingo skip into a china shop? Or maybe a turtle and a gorilla mosey into a saloon? Go ape shit :)
Phillip scanned the menu. Burgers, salads, steaks, vegetable platter...
- How bout a Turkey O'Toole?
Barry stared back across the table at him. This was one of the reasons they rarely hung out anymore.
- Phillip...Look at me! I'm a friggin' Penguin. Do I look like a bloody cannibal. Seriously?
- Well, I dunno. I mean, it's Turkey. Turkey O'Toole. Not Penguin O'Toole. Fer fuck sake.
- You don't see me asking you if you wanna try the monkey bread.
- How is that even a comeback? First of all, it's not like monkey bread is even made out of monkeys. And B, it's not even that same animal. Apes and monkeys are about as different as whales and fish.
- Well, seeing as how I occupy the slot right between them on the food chain, I concede that point. But, I won't eat anything else on the same rung.
- Hawks and eagles do it all the time.
- Well, hawks and eagles can just go fuck themselves, can't they.
They sat in silence for a while. It always went back to this. Ever since Barry started seeing Valerie. Phillip could be civil for the first hour or two, but eventually, the frost settled in and the bickering started. But, they'd known each other for too long to just walk away. They were the bad habit they couldn't break.
- What are you thinking of getting, Barry asked.
- Veg plate. Maybe the fruit platter. I can't decide.
- Yeah. Me neither. I could go with the shrimp cocktail, but I sick of shrimp. I'm sick of fish.
- I guess the chicken's out as well, Phillip said with a crooked smile.
Barry chuckled.
-Yeah. No chicken...Sorry I got upset.
-No. My fault. I don't think sometimes. You know something funny though. You know how you said about monkeybread?
- Yeah.
- I heard somewhere, that Chimps'll eat monkeys.
- What?
- Yeah. Snatch 'em out of the trees and just club 'em or rip them apart with their hands and just eat them right there.
Barry sat open beaked.
- Why the hell do you wanna say something like that before we eat?
- I just though it was funny, how you make a monkeybread comment since I'm an ape and everything, but it turns out that there really is another ape that WOULD eat monkeybread. I mean if it were made with real monkeys...
- What the hell is the matter with you?
- Everyone assumes that we're vegetarians. I mean, gorillas don't really hunt or anything, but we do eat bugs sometimes.
- Do I know you?
- What?
- Phillips! Why can't we have a normal conversation anymore? Did you see that movie? have you heard that song? How's Valerie? You know. Normal shit.
- I don't go to the movies. I don't own a radio. And frankly, I could give a shit about Valerie.
- Here we go.
- No. Yeah. Here we go. You don't wanna hear it, but it's gotta be said.
- You should stop before you even start.
- You're no fun anymore.
- STOP
-She dresses you like an asshole now.
- TALKING
- She's the reason why Justin stopped hanging out with us.
- NOW!
- If you want to settle for for less that's your business, but someone has to say it to you.
- I'm going.
- No one says you have to marry the first girl you lay.
- Phillip. Since you're in the mood for honesty, let me fill you in on something. The reason Justin stopped hanging out with us, is that he couldn't take your incessant complaining. Having a sad gorilla face is no excuse. You bitch all the time and it was bumming him out. It bums me out too, frankly, but I just felt too sorry for you to walk away. I dreaded the thought of leaving you alone in the world, but at this point, I just don't bloody care anymore. You've alienated every friend you have in the world and if you don't do something about it, you. will. die. ALONE!
Barry shuddered with nervous energy. He'd held that rant in reserve for months and had practiced every word in his head. He never thought he'd ever have occasion to wield it, but now that it was out there, he felt a great pressure off his chest. It needed to be said.
Phillip just sat there with his sad gorilla face.
- Aren't you going to say anything?
Phillips was silent. Barry stared back at him and for a moment felt like he'd just made a mistake. For a moment he felt like he'd like to take back every word he'd just said. But he knew that not only was it far too late for that, but it really should have been done sooner. He knew that his life with Valerie was the most important thing he's ever had in his life and that he would do everything in his power to insure that it stayed that way. If that meant severing ties with his oldest friend, then he was okay with that. Phillip would never learn.
- I'm going, Barry said.
Phillip was silent. Barry hopped down off the booth seat and shuffled across the dining area of the Bennigan's. About half way across, he turned and looked back. Phillip still hadn't moved. He just sat there with his sad gorilla face. Barry turned away and shuffled out the front door. Eventually, a waitress came to his table.
- How's it goin'? May name's Brianna. I'll be your server. Can I start you off with a drink order?
Bill Withers - For My Friend
Phillip scanned the menu. Burgers, salads, steaks, vegetable platter...
- How bout a Turkey O'Toole?
Barry stared back across the table at him. This was one of the reasons they rarely hung out anymore.
- Phillip...Look at me! I'm a friggin' Penguin. Do I look like a bloody cannibal. Seriously?
- Well, I dunno. I mean, it's Turkey. Turkey O'Toole. Not Penguin O'Toole. Fer fuck sake.
- You don't see me asking you if you wanna try the monkey bread.
- How is that even a comeback? First of all, it's not like monkey bread is even made out of monkeys. And B, it's not even that same animal. Apes and monkeys are about as different as whales and fish.
- Well, seeing as how I occupy the slot right between them on the food chain, I concede that point. But, I won't eat anything else on the same rung.
- Hawks and eagles do it all the time.
- Well, hawks and eagles can just go fuck themselves, can't they.
They sat in silence for a while. It always went back to this. Ever since Barry started seeing Valerie. Phillip could be civil for the first hour or two, but eventually, the frost settled in and the bickering started. But, they'd known each other for too long to just walk away. They were the bad habit they couldn't break.
- What are you thinking of getting, Barry asked.
- Veg plate. Maybe the fruit platter. I can't decide.
- Yeah. Me neither. I could go with the shrimp cocktail, but I sick of shrimp. I'm sick of fish.
- I guess the chicken's out as well, Phillip said with a crooked smile.
Barry chuckled.
-Yeah. No chicken...Sorry I got upset.
-No. My fault. I don't think sometimes. You know something funny though. You know how you said about monkeybread?
- Yeah.
- I heard somewhere, that Chimps'll eat monkeys.
- What?
- Yeah. Snatch 'em out of the trees and just club 'em or rip them apart with their hands and just eat them right there.
Barry sat open beaked.
- Why the hell do you wanna say something like that before we eat?
- I just though it was funny, how you make a monkeybread comment since I'm an ape and everything, but it turns out that there really is another ape that WOULD eat monkeybread. I mean if it were made with real monkeys...
- What the hell is the matter with you?
- Everyone assumes that we're vegetarians. I mean, gorillas don't really hunt or anything, but we do eat bugs sometimes.
- Do I know you?
- What?
- Phillips! Why can't we have a normal conversation anymore? Did you see that movie? have you heard that song? How's Valerie? You know. Normal shit.
- I don't go to the movies. I don't own a radio. And frankly, I could give a shit about Valerie.
- Here we go.
- No. Yeah. Here we go. You don't wanna hear it, but it's gotta be said.
- You should stop before you even start.
- You're no fun anymore.
- STOP
-She dresses you like an asshole now.
- TALKING
- She's the reason why Justin stopped hanging out with us.
- NOW!
- If you want to settle for for less that's your business, but someone has to say it to you.
- I'm going.
- No one says you have to marry the first girl you lay.
- Phillip. Since you're in the mood for honesty, let me fill you in on something. The reason Justin stopped hanging out with us, is that he couldn't take your incessant complaining. Having a sad gorilla face is no excuse. You bitch all the time and it was bumming him out. It bums me out too, frankly, but I just felt too sorry for you to walk away. I dreaded the thought of leaving you alone in the world, but at this point, I just don't bloody care anymore. You've alienated every friend you have in the world and if you don't do something about it, you. will. die. ALONE!
Barry shuddered with nervous energy. He'd held that rant in reserve for months and had practiced every word in his head. He never thought he'd ever have occasion to wield it, but now that it was out there, he felt a great pressure off his chest. It needed to be said.
Phillip just sat there with his sad gorilla face.
- Aren't you going to say anything?
Phillips was silent. Barry stared back at him and for a moment felt like he'd just made a mistake. For a moment he felt like he'd like to take back every word he'd just said. But he knew that not only was it far too late for that, but it really should have been done sooner. He knew that his life with Valerie was the most important thing he's ever had in his life and that he would do everything in his power to insure that it stayed that way. If that meant severing ties with his oldest friend, then he was okay with that. Phillip would never learn.
- I'm going, Barry said.
Phillip was silent. Barry hopped down off the booth seat and shuffled across the dining area of the Bennigan's. About half way across, he turned and looked back. Phillip still hadn't moved. He just sat there with his sad gorilla face. Barry turned away and shuffled out the front door. Eventually, a waitress came to his table.
- How's it goin'? May name's Brianna. I'll be your server. Can I start you off with a drink order?
Bill Withers - For My Friend
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Rinse. Repeat
Routines are a part of our daily lives, something that many of us cannot live without. They can be monotonous or comforting, but without routines, most of us will never get our teeth brushed. Write a descriptive about one of your daily routines.
I don't know that I have any routines. I have habits, which aren't really the same. Odd shit. Like the fact that I always eat the outside of a sandwich first, andslowly make my way to the delicious middle. But I suppose that falls more in the category of neurosis or eating disorder. Along with my habit of eating my least favorite thing on a plate first.
At work, the first thing I try to do is check the stacks of paperbacks to make sure that nothing needs to go out on the floor immediately. But even that gets stymied by the fact that our schedules are fluid and I'm just as likely to start the day on register. Hell, I'm also just as likely to go in at 2:30 or 3:00. It varies from week to week. As does my lunch hour.
I sometimes wake up and turn on my computer first thing in the morning. After that, all bets are off. I might check my mail first. or I might check MySpace or Facebook. Or Digg.com. Or Goodreads. Or I might troll the music blogs for any thing I didn't know I needed more than anything in the world until I saw it for the first time today.
I say I sometimes wake up and do that, because lately, I wake up and switch the XBOX on. Playing a new game will do that to you.
I used to have a routine for making mixtapes that involved sitting in the middle of a room with large piles of CD's surrounding me as I sat there and made it up on the fly, letting the tape form as my mood suited me. It the mixTAPE era, you had the duration of the current song being recorded to decide what would come next. CD burners and itunes kinda killed that.
About the only routine I have is stopping at the Texan Mart before work and buying an RC Cola. Sometimes I get String Cheese. Sometimes a cookie or a handful of Jolly Ranchers. Green Apple.
Oh well. Consistency and Hobgoblins and all.
The Staple Singers - Lets Do It Again
I don't know that I have any routines. I have habits, which aren't really the same. Odd shit. Like the fact that I always eat the outside of a sandwich first, andslowly make my way to the delicious middle. But I suppose that falls more in the category of neurosis or eating disorder. Along with my habit of eating my least favorite thing on a plate first.
At work, the first thing I try to do is check the stacks of paperbacks to make sure that nothing needs to go out on the floor immediately. But even that gets stymied by the fact that our schedules are fluid and I'm just as likely to start the day on register. Hell, I'm also just as likely to go in at 2:30 or 3:00. It varies from week to week. As does my lunch hour.
I sometimes wake up and turn on my computer first thing in the morning. After that, all bets are off. I might check my mail first. or I might check MySpace or Facebook. Or Digg.com. Or Goodreads. Or I might troll the music blogs for any thing I didn't know I needed more than anything in the world until I saw it for the first time today.
I say I sometimes wake up and do that, because lately, I wake up and switch the XBOX on. Playing a new game will do that to you.
I used to have a routine for making mixtapes that involved sitting in the middle of a room with large piles of CD's surrounding me as I sat there and made it up on the fly, letting the tape form as my mood suited me. It the mixTAPE era, you had the duration of the current song being recorded to decide what would come next. CD burners and itunes kinda killed that.
About the only routine I have is stopping at the Texan Mart before work and buying an RC Cola. Sometimes I get String Cheese. Sometimes a cookie or a handful of Jolly Ranchers. Green Apple.
Oh well. Consistency and Hobgoblins and all.
The Staple Singers - Lets Do It Again
I got a propostion for you.
Anthony Bourdain gets to gallivant around the world indulging in a culinary map of marvels as we suckers sit home, salivating over some rare delicacy, or dry heaving over an even rarer delicacy. If you could go anywhere in the world with Mr. Bourdain, chef and booze-hound extraordinaire, where would you go, and which foods would you absolutely have to try? Pretend that this is a pitch to get him to pick you out of thousands of people, and really sell your idea. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, get out from under your rock, and go to travelchannel.com.
Alright dude. Here's the deal. You have been quite vociferous in your opinion of vegetarians. And that's cool. I don't begrudge you. You coast by on a seemingly endless bank of cool points that others with similar opinions (Nugent, Leary, et. al.) simply don't have. And frankly, after reading over some of the comments on the matter, I find most of my fellow vegetarians to be reactionary humorless morons who simply cannot take a joke. Well, actually, I feel that way about the majority of my fellow Liberals. Sometimes, I'm embarrassed to be in their company. I'd switch parties, but I'm not a racist homophobic misogynist.
But I digress.
My point is, it may seem that we have a great chasm between us, but that's what they said about Anwar Sadat and Menachem Begin. And if those guys could bring peace to the Middle East, then anything is possible. Here is my proposal.
Quid Pro Quo. Tit for Tat. Something for something else. Catch my drift? I've been a vegetarian for almost ten years. But I will put it on pause if only to let you see that we are not the enemy (well, most of us. I can't speak for the crazy ones, but then again, you can't speak for the nuts on your side either.)
Now, I know this seems a bit one-sided. After all, on a hypothetical level, you don't limit yourself to a purely carnivorous diet, while I, though not vegan, subsist otherwise. You always have the vegetarian option, you simply choose to not exercise it. But, have you ever really surrendered to a truly vegetarian meal. I don't mean something that has no meat, but rather, something that was prepared with just as much culinary care and consideration for palette any of your items on the menu at Le Halles. Your fondness for Indian cuisine has been noted, so I know you're willing.
It would make for brilliant television. Each episode, we would stop in an exotic city and you would sample the local vegetarian cuisine. And in exchange, for the duration of the season, I would forego my diet and subject myself to whatever you placed in front of me. Anything. The meaties would tune in to watch me squirm and the veg's would get a laugh out of watching you grumble and bitch about the food you're missing out on. And maybe, when it's all said and done, you might be willing to admit that there are Veg items that can stand firmly with some of the other recipes in your life. Sure, it's not marrow on toast with sea salt, but I suppose few things are. I just want this acrimony to stop. I'll take one for the team as it were. Then you can stop baiting Veg's and they can stop bitching. And honestly, it's not so much your baiting as their bitching that gets under my skin.
But, before we go forward, I do have to admit something in the interest of full disclosure. I'm Mexican. While this may seem to be a matter of little importance, I should point out that I grew up eating the parts of animals that most people throw away. Stomach. Cheek. Tongue. Tripe. Pancreas. All par for the course. Additionally, I'm one of the few vegetarians that will admit that yes, meat DOES taste good. I just choose to not eat it.
And as to the general image of vegetarians as 90-pound weaklings, I stand testament to the contrary. I've gained 20 pounds since I STOPPED eating meat.
C'mon. It'll be fun. And when we're not filming, we can go drink each other under the table at the hotel bar. We'll be the two coolest guys in the room. The Frenchman and the Mexican. It even sounds like a cool movie. Like a Spaghetti Western that takes place in Texas after the Civil War. We can even stay in touch afterwards. Exchange Christmas cards. Message each other on Facebook. Totally BFF's
Uh, did I mention that I developed a man crush on you last year? Yeah. After I read Kitchen Confidential. Even went out and bought my first heavy Chef's knife like you suggested in the book. Best purchase I ever made. Granted, I use it to slice peppers and onions instead of shanks and loins, but you get the idea. Anyway, think it over.
Seriously.
The Swallows - It Ain't The Meat
Alright dude. Here's the deal. You have been quite vociferous in your opinion of vegetarians. And that's cool. I don't begrudge you. You coast by on a seemingly endless bank of cool points that others with similar opinions (Nugent, Leary, et. al.) simply don't have. And frankly, after reading over some of the comments on the matter, I find most of my fellow vegetarians to be reactionary humorless morons who simply cannot take a joke. Well, actually, I feel that way about the majority of my fellow Liberals. Sometimes, I'm embarrassed to be in their company. I'd switch parties, but I'm not a racist homophobic misogynist.
But I digress.
My point is, it may seem that we have a great chasm between us, but that's what they said about Anwar Sadat and Menachem Begin. And if those guys could bring peace to the Middle East, then anything is possible. Here is my proposal.
Quid Pro Quo. Tit for Tat. Something for something else. Catch my drift? I've been a vegetarian for almost ten years. But I will put it on pause if only to let you see that we are not the enemy (well, most of us. I can't speak for the crazy ones, but then again, you can't speak for the nuts on your side either.)
Now, I know this seems a bit one-sided. After all, on a hypothetical level, you don't limit yourself to a purely carnivorous diet, while I, though not vegan, subsist otherwise. You always have the vegetarian option, you simply choose to not exercise it. But, have you ever really surrendered to a truly vegetarian meal. I don't mean something that has no meat, but rather, something that was prepared with just as much culinary care and consideration for palette any of your items on the menu at Le Halles. Your fondness for Indian cuisine has been noted, so I know you're willing.
It would make for brilliant television. Each episode, we would stop in an exotic city and you would sample the local vegetarian cuisine. And in exchange, for the duration of the season, I would forego my diet and subject myself to whatever you placed in front of me. Anything. The meaties would tune in to watch me squirm and the veg's would get a laugh out of watching you grumble and bitch about the food you're missing out on. And maybe, when it's all said and done, you might be willing to admit that there are Veg items that can stand firmly with some of the other recipes in your life. Sure, it's not marrow on toast with sea salt, but I suppose few things are. I just want this acrimony to stop. I'll take one for the team as it were. Then you can stop baiting Veg's and they can stop bitching. And honestly, it's not so much your baiting as their bitching that gets under my skin.
But, before we go forward, I do have to admit something in the interest of full disclosure. I'm Mexican. While this may seem to be a matter of little importance, I should point out that I grew up eating the parts of animals that most people throw away. Stomach. Cheek. Tongue. Tripe. Pancreas. All par for the course. Additionally, I'm one of the few vegetarians that will admit that yes, meat DOES taste good. I just choose to not eat it.
And as to the general image of vegetarians as 90-pound weaklings, I stand testament to the contrary. I've gained 20 pounds since I STOPPED eating meat.
C'mon. It'll be fun. And when we're not filming, we can go drink each other under the table at the hotel bar. We'll be the two coolest guys in the room. The Frenchman and the Mexican. It even sounds like a cool movie. Like a Spaghetti Western that takes place in Texas after the Civil War. We can even stay in touch afterwards. Exchange Christmas cards. Message each other on Facebook. Totally BFF's
Uh, did I mention that I developed a man crush on you last year? Yeah. After I read Kitchen Confidential. Even went out and bought my first heavy Chef's knife like you suggested in the book. Best purchase I ever made. Granted, I use it to slice peppers and onions instead of shanks and loins, but you get the idea. Anyway, think it over.
Seriously.
The Swallows - It Ain't The Meat
Man Crush Material!!!
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