Saturday, June 30, 2007

Must I Eat?

At a time (tick-tocks of excess, and not one prize in competitve eating); a time when perhaps pushing myself away from a table [without specifying which table --maybe any table will work; plug in a table of your choice] might be a reasonable order of business (because I already have enough __________ and enough ________, really too much __________ and too much __________ also), I have given myself a fork to work with, so I'll set out [we'll see how long, maybe measured with a times table] to use it every time I post (or write) or feed myself or try to extend the fork with a taste of this or that to someone else. Despite how limited the fork is (and I'll get into that next time, though I may need to be skinny and slippery to get through the tines), it IS (this time) an instrument for indulgence, so I'll be digging into whatever is diggable (at the moment of the digging) --especially things that are visual, sonic, olfactory, and tactile on some scale somewhere --maybe some place at the table, maybe some place value at the table too, but don't count on that. Whatever happens will exist in a written form as well as other forms; the fork can't help but to engage in writing, each tine adept at spilling ink.

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