Saturday, November 7, 2009


Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the dreaming universe. This is dreaming man talking. Vapors sometimes, or bile, spleen, winds rise to the brain causing a grumbling, rumbling set of thoughts. I'm guilty of that. Just read yesterday's post. Such posts fill me with revulsion. My grumbling words are like the sound of a spatula trying to flip a broken half-fried egg in the flying pan.

A woman paced back and forth while I enjoyed coffee and read a book in the strip-mall café. Her face was quiet and vacant. Afterwards, a single man sat down and looked depressed. He hardly moved. The cup of coffee sat in a paper cup. He gazed, sad dark eyes, into space and periodically picked up the cup to drink. After him, an oriental gentleman and his son sat there.
I watched as a woman with thick puffy black hair and a blank expression ordered coffee and a sandwich. The waiter asked if she wanted bacon or sausage on the sandwich. She didn’t reply. He repeated the question three or four times and then suddenly said, ok, we’ll make it with bacon. The woman didn’t seem to mind. She appeared oblivious to the world, as if she couldn’t understand why the waiter was asking such questions. All she wanted was coffee and a sandwich; she wasn’t asking to be given a lot of choices or to have to make decisions.
To eat shape, color and texture, to eat the environment, to eat one’s immediate surroundings, to take hold of something, sink in the teeth, to chew, swallow and digest, this is the Lohbado way; sight, sound, taste, touch and smell, to even eat thought. Everything could be ingested, sorted out into nutrients and waste, transmuted and expelled. The body experiences various sensations related to the process: hunger, satiation, bloating, putrefaction, downward-moving ooze and then empty again.

No comments: