Thursday, April 2, 2009

Enya Makes Me Melancholy

The new mother goes out to party for the first time since having her baby. She comes home feeling a bit tipsy and takes the baby to bed with her. She wakes up in the morning to find her lifeless baby partially underneath her.

It’s not the death that is so memorable but the human sorrow. A witness to hell. Blood and guts almost seems easy.

Blood smells like metal. If there’s enough to smell it’s not a good thing.

I remember my first CPR. I remember the perfume and the dress she had on. To this day when I smell that perfume it takes me right back. It smells like death.

I remember a kid asking me for my autograph.

I remember the sunrises over Lake Michigan while sitting on the roofs of burnt out German Duplexs.

I remember thinking I was going to die....................

I remember my father.

Old Post

It's funny how my posts evolve over time. As a matter of fact the whole tone changes from season to season.

Here's one from September 2007

I am often engaged in conversation with "foodies". People who love food, breath food, dream of food, and cook food. I'm a natural sounding post for foodies because they assume that being a chef I must be one also. I've got news for them, I am not. Sure I love food but it's not my hobby. After a 12 hour day of buying, slicing, chopping, sauteing, grilling, lifting, cleaning and wearing food the last thing I want to do is talk about it. Foodies have the advantage of not having to make a living with food. They can piddle about experimenting with new and exotic ingredients or go on great searches for the most unusual restaurants. They'll bend your ear about great recipes, I really don't care about the recipe for chili gravy. I hate recipes. I don't use them and most are flawed. I find recipes are dangerous. Especially in the hands of amateurs. I may not know who has the best cumin and quite frankly I don't care. Now if you can tell me where I can buy good choice PSMOs at a decent price I'll listen. Or about a produce company that's not going to screw me, I'm all ears.

I'm guessing my attitude is similar to a farmer's regarding animals. Just because he raises them and earns his living with them, he doesn't have to be an animal lover. I'd also argue that being an animal lover would be a detriment to his livelihood. Just if I were to spend my whole day in search for some exotic fungus that might be the current craze.

So next time you want to have a nice conversation with me, let's talk about the Packers, or knives, or travel. Anything but food.