Food that lies

This one is for Eli

I scooped out a bowl of ice cream, but, as usual, problems arose. It was all wrong. I got angry. I felt like cursing, and unfortunately I said some things I wouldn't say in normal conversation. I said, more to myself really, that things just weren't the same. But I guess I said it out loud.  And an argument ensued.

Things have been in decline for some years, and the springtime of food enjoyment has increasingly succumbed to an autumnal starkness. Indeed, I think many of my favorite foods have been colluding to rebel in some kind of gustatory usurpation. But I could be just imaging that.

My points were at least two-fold, and so I felt I had the stronger argument. One, the whole paltry experience didn't last very long. Oh, I tried! Yes, I tried to slow down, make it last. I exercised various enhancement techniques - chocolate sauce, novelty spoons, etc.  I tried to be sensitive, understanding. I don't think I'm being unreasonable.

But far more incriminating:  the vanilla cream and Oreo chunks were a lie. It made promises, but didn't keep them, not authentically.  Eventually, I began to suspect it had been lying to me for years, and I did not realize it. "How long has this been going on?" I demanded.  It was speechless when cornered. "Have I been blinded all this time? Where is the satisfaction you promised? Why am I still unhappy?  No, stop.  Dont tell me that. Life is not sweet and creamy."

I discovered candy's impotence years ago. Shortly afterward followed all cake. Twinkies and Ding Dongs were just a childhood fling, puppy love, a gradeschool crush, and a wry smile appears across my face at their memories now. Pie? Well...pie and I go way back, but its still a mood thing. But at some point all sweets became uninteresting to me - I just couldn't take the lies any more. Sweetness? Life is not sweetness. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something.

Meat and vegetables, they don't lie. But sometimes I dont have the patience for their hearty companionship, their constant summons to celebration. I wasn't going to admit it, but I will - I have been secretly enjoying many alternative foods for some years: sushi, mushrooms, wasabi peas, jerky. But while not lying per se, we do not always....*sigh*  How do I put it?  It's like we are not speaking the same language, and eating becomes perfunctory, obligatory. The life, the zest is gone. Ardor cools.

But one friend I know. She can be harsh, the old boot.  And she lies, yes, she's a renown liar. But one anticipates her lies. She's a cheater, she loves and leaves. A regular whore. In the end, she's no better than cake or ice cream for her transience. But she speaks my language. We communicate like no other because she speaks as if she knows of discouragement, weariness, disillusionment, though what can she possibly know of these?  Still, our fellowship, our voluntary fellowship, is a refuge from the storm. For once, I feel understood. She lets me be myself. Perhaps you've met her.