11 A.M., 2/26, 20 y.o.: I ate breakfast alone. I was inspired by the concurrent
deepening/thawing of winter and current planetary arrangement. It was a
celebration. This is our state:
OATS: In the kitchen I ate at last night there was an open bag of raw oats. I
LOVE oats they are buttery and silky and TRANQUIL. Like pansies. I have a
recurring dream in which I am vacuuming oats from a white shag carpet. As I
tell this dream to more and more people I become less and less soothed by it.
I am now restless.
MOZZARELLA CHEESE: It is a CRIME to eat mozzarella cheese in
ANYTHING other than NATURAL LIGHT.
HARD-BOILED EGGS: Exceptional hand warmers and social organizers,
especially in the winter. There is no stronger bond than between two people
who share a joint hard-boiled egg. Apples occasionally serve this purpose. As spring approaches, I am having increasing trouble reconciling the ethicopolitical consequences of eating eggs with the sensual allure and radical potential of a hard-boiled soirée. My rubber chicken GLIMBUS reminds me of this conundrum daily. My current stance is this: first the egg-union must take power, then we can ABOLISH THE EGG!