"What's the weirdest thing you're ever eaten?"
And so, I met my friend's new beau and we began to talk about tripe and musculature of the mouth and Aldous Huxley's less-known works, moving to religion and childhood memories. Our meeting left me craving more conversations like this, as well as Last Exit to Brooklyn and North Indian fare. He mentioned Samuel Shem's The House of God and I passed on a beloved Rilke poem. An intense, handsome fellow, he remained ever polite throughout our meal and I delighted in talking with a stranger for a few hours so openly.
I motioned to my creamed shrimp and said that a year or two ago I would never have touched it. My attempts to sample foods I have previously not enjoyed over and over, hoping for a rare moment of delight, spill over into the rest of my life. I don't like setting down absolutes because so much of experience is circumstantial, dependent upon one's mood and location and the events of that time. Of all berries, raspberries garner my singular contempt, yet I know as a child I happily wandered through clumps of raspberry bushes and picked off berries with careless fingers, staining my mouth and scratching my hands raw pink. So I keep trying to find a different, similarly good experience.
Jeff said wintertime makes him seek out light. I have been one acquainted with the night, yes, and prefer the darkling months. Still, my room is lit up by five candles, three by the computer, and I am wearing woolen socks that itch and comfort while sipping tea with dried rose petals.
I couldn't bring you much warmth or light, but perhaps with the start of this year I can share some of what I love, and dislike, and some that I hope to come to enjoy. ( Spiders, trees, and teapots courtesy of Flickr abound )