Voodooesque

Thoughts for food.

between thinking this thing and coming upstairs to write this thing, my thoughts about it have developed a bit. a minute ago, i thought the thought i'd had had been random. one of those things that just pops in there. in fact, i think it may have something to do with two things. firstly, the thought occurred while I was have a couple of spoonfuls of heavenly vanilla organic yoghurt, and i'm being very cautious at the moment with what i eat in case i trigger one of the rather extreme and mysterious reactions i've been having (and the reason i'm seeing a neurologist later this week). Second i've been wondering to what extent i should voluntarily inform or the extent to which i will be quizzed, about my mental health status/history at the appointment. Tallying up the number of anxiety attacks i've had in recent months, for example, and comparing it to any kind of 'norm.'

Putting thoughts of anxiety and thoughts of food together likely precipitated in my mind the scene from my early teens which popped up, technicolour and surround sound, across the lid of a yogurt pot while standing in the fridge doorway.

there were three worlds. one inhabited by my father and his wife. two nice cars. nice apartment in nice part of city. nice holidays. nice food. nice clothes. nice friends. another where my mother lived. Grey. desolate. The damp, lonely smell of homes long empty. Niceties, and those who aspired to them, despised.

the third. mine. full of fantasies of future and past episodes so vivid I often had difficulty deciphering between them when border breaching inquiry tapped impatiently on the glass.

The thing i just remembered was real and unremarkable. I was very excited. The first time I had chinese food. with my dad and his wife and my little brother in a fancy restaurant in the city. smoother than smooth white linen napkins. I don't remember having eaten anywhere so impressive before. We weren't used to it. The smiling staff, the wonderful smells. pages and pages of leatherbound choice on weighty paper. my brother was completely intimidated. couldn't speak. kept looking at me desperately for direction. i wanted to ask what everything was, but i dare not. feigned reading and rereading the menu. quietly asked my father a couple of things. the air chilled with his impatience. She and he ordered. we were paralysed. i started to slowly repeat items that they had ordered. His eyes rolled. Breath huffed. I mispronounced. He looked away. Disappointment: a dish served hot and seething over silent courses.

posted by dodo @ 8:19 pm