Past Scribbles

I found this page from the beginning of the year and I felt it appropriate for adding to my log.

1/9/08 - Neuberger Hall, Room 59

My stomach won't release whatever tightness it seems to have become so friendly with in the last several days.
I have no doubt that the bowl of cinnamon Puffins and mil along with the reheated (and let it be known overly large) portion of last night's lemon, cilantro, tofu and shell pasta have some part to play in the present exacerbation of this discomfort.
Damn appetite.
But the altruism in me tells me that if pain and my stomach have become amiable I really have no place telling them to stop being friends.
I would hate to be told not to continue a new friendship.
I feel like a parent and my stomach is my child. The pain is that little boy with dirty hand and the mismatching shoelaces who eats more than one cookie without asking or saying thank you.
But my child is home-schooled, afraid of people I don't personally introduce and thus he cannot continue a friendship with pain sans my direct involvement.
I kind of have to be friends with pain too.

Pain left and now my stomach is mine again. It seems almost Oedipal, our relationship.
Perhaps that's why my stomach has seedy friends from time to time; to keep me from being too completely attached. To make friends with other stomachs.


Going back even further still, the following poem is off of a napkin from Whole Foods leading me to believe I wrote this during a break from serving at P.F. Chang's.

Consideration - 8/18/07

While rude people are annoying,
those who don't realize their rudness
tend to be so much more aggravating.

In a city where only the rich can afford to
be healthy and the careless can access
fashionableness I find myself scrounging
for bits of propriety.
What should be said at what times?
How should one look for an occasion?
And yet love rises about what is thought
of as appropriate or acceptable.
It supersedes the trends and vogue of
any culture.
It cannot be stopped except by the hand
of ignorance.

Perhaps a smile plays on both sides of
the fence. It can be loving or ignorant.

The nature of a smile notwithstanding:
What of kisses?
What of hugs?
What of gifts?
What of fucking?

Can all be one or the other,
loving or ignorant?
Or perhaps just rude.