I
have an infection in my leg. I don't know how I got
it and it's not serious. It's more annoying than painful.
My sense of how painful is was came after a few days
of antibiotics. What I felt as mild discomfort felt
so much better when it was no longer there that I had
to admit that it had hurt.
Taking
antibiotics is reeking havoc with my system. I have
a visual image of myself as one of those clear plastic
anatomy models. All the inner works of my body winding
around one another. A pill goes in my mouth and gets
to a spot on the front of my left leg. How? I don't
completely understand. I probably never will. I just
keep thinking about blood moving through my heart and
out into my arms and legs and then back again. Layers
of connective tissue and epidermis. It's a mystery.
I'm
in a terrible, terrible mood. The pool was
supposed to reopen today and so at the dark
and rainy crack of doom I walked up to the
pool. There was a sign on the door saying
that things weren't done. There was no water
in the pool. Picture my pout. I couldn't
get back to sleep. My digestion is off because
of the antibiotics. I feel tired and cold
and volatile. Fortunately there are things
happening today that will probably help
me shake it. Karen
Armstrong is at CWL tonight.
It's
sad because I was looking forward to today.
And I was in a pretty great mood last night.
I saw a rerun of A Tavis Smiley show with
Mo' Nique, which you can watch here.
(Scroll down a bit.) Tavis could not stop
smiling and laughing. It was just fun.
I
wanted to point to The
Big Red Chair. Partly because one of
the people doing the site asked me to and
partly because there is lots of cool stuff
there. I'm not much of a shopper. And I'm
not much of a fashionista. I like clothes.
I like cool clothes. I'm just not ... a
shopper. But it's a good and useful aggregate
site.
I
may pout a bit more. It's the prefect day
for it. And then I will get over myself.
Karen
Armstrong was wonderful. Her new book organizes around
the Golden
Rule. She talked about the Axial
Age and the different ways in which the golden rule
is articulated. It was an interesting crowd of people.
Many seemed to be renunciants of one kind or another.
I guess that's her crowd. She also wrote the first book
in a new series
about Myth that makes my teeth chatter with longing.
I
am thinking about the Golden Rule today and the nature
of hurt. I usually say that I don't expect to be involved
with anyone for any length of time and not get hurt.
Hurt happens. It doesn't always mean the end of a relationship.
So I've been thinking about the times in my life when
it has meant the end. It always seems to form around
a sense that the cause of the hurt isn't understood
mutually and so may happen again and maybe more to the
point happen again and not be understood again. At that
point it feels like a choice between banging your head
into the same wall or ... stopping. I usually figure
that it's not any more pleasant for the other person
than it is for me.
It
took me a long time to get to this place. I always wanted
to believe that if just kept talking I could make it
clear and then they would see and then it would be all
good. But. Maybe it's me that isn't seeing. Or maybe
there's nothing to see.
I
listen to friends talk about issues in relationship.
It's so often about feeling like the other person doesn't
get what they're doing to cause pain. People struggle
to find the way to say the thing that will make it all
clear and better and surely if you knew how what you
do feels to me you wouldn't do it, right? Well. I'm
not sure. I mostly think people do the best they can.
And sometimes the best they can do is always (or often)
going to be hurtful.
Sometimes
I think we need to be able to bear some pain. Sometimes
I think we need to chose to let go. I'm not always I
sure I know when is which but ... I do the best I can.
I
just turned on CSPAN and Senator
Byrd, for whom I have much regard, was reading from
the bible and going on and on about Easter. I was puzzled.
I'm not so hyper about the separation of church and
state that I think he shouldn't be doing such a thing
and I know it's almost Easter break and it was early
in the morning during the anything goes time. It's kinda
sad that hearing the sound of a bible verse makes me
tense. It wouldn't in any other environment but it is
the senate.
I
understand the reason for the separation of church and
state but I like political leaders with a sense of spirit.
A sense of spirit is very different from the religiosity
that goes on inside the beltway now. I don't think Senator
Byrd is guilty of using his faith to position himself
as superior. I think he was just being reverent and
holiday minded. Still. It struck a nerve.
I
finally watched Good
Night and Good Luck. It was difficult to watch it
after having heard a
report on Democracy Now about fake news. In the
middle of the film I was over whelmed with the feeling
that we never learn. In fact things seem worse than
ever. And then I get red faced and strident and start
teeth gnashing and hand wringing.
My
own sense of spirit wavers in the face of so much ...
bad faith. I get stuck in fretting. I become prickly
and reactive. A wonderful man talking about the spirit
of a holiday that could be about redemption and
new life makes me tense.
My
mantra yesterday was - the world is a terrible
place. I'd watched a documentary on malaria
in Africa a few times over the weekend because
I kept missing parts of it and it was a
lot to take in. I also watched the
concert. Statistics usually sail past
me but the statistic that every sixty seconds
a child in Africa dies of Malaria stuck
in my head and seemed to mark time. And
then I saw a documentary about second
hand t-shirts and that's how I got to
- the world is a terrible place. And then
there was some
discsussion about after Katrina.
The
book
I'm reading is great but doesn't do anything to improve
my outlook. The weather
is oppressive.
I
was trying to kick the feeling when I got
a call from a postal inspector. I wrote
about having trouble with my mail awhile
ago. It turns out that some of my mail was
found in a parole inspection and my mail
is being held for evidence. I'm not at all
sure what this means but it gives me the
creeps.
I
don't really think the world is a terrible
place. Not all of it. Not always. I'm just
in one of those through a glass darkly places.
Everything
I know about anorexia I learned from Marya.
Which is to say that I don't know that
much. Her book was a revelation and talking
with her was informative but I would need to read more to really feel
like I had any depth of understanding. The
thing that stuck with me was the peril.
She was always in a state of peril.
I
never felt like anorexia was about a fear
of being fat. I'm not saying that from any
kind of expertise and certainly the fear
of being fat is in the mix. But the peril.
The constant peril. Something about that
seemed more central for me. I felt like
the thing that Marya and I had in common
(other than a love of reading and writing
and talking and politics and on and on)
was a way of asking our bodies to endure
what ever strain we put on them in service
to the larger project of trying create and
destroy ourselves.
I
jumped to a buncha posts linked by Dru.
And, given the terrible mood I'm in lately
my first reaction was a flat contempt for
a
post that began some of the conversation.
Just. Flat. Contempt.
The moral outrage against the ghost of anorexia is intellectually
puddle-deep; it is similar to so many other moral panics of our
generation. It hardly represents a statistical blip on our health-care
radar – but it’s a dramatic affront to our way of living – and that’s
far more dangerous than any 500 calorie-a-day diet could ever be.
500 calories a day?
As
I read through the responses, most of which are linked
by Dru, my thinking began to wander. I think there were
a lot of things mashed together in the guy's post. I
think there are always a lot of things mashed together
when we try to talk about weight and women's bodies.
Taking his post more slowly I find that I agree with
some of it. I too think that the drinking that happens
on spring break is something to talk about, not to mention
the credit card debt those kids get talked into. If
the post was a critique about American consumption I
might agree that hyper- consumption as a way of life
is problematic. I also think there is a tendency to
look at very thin women and assume they are anorexic.
But,
ya know, he cites a buncha people saying that deaths
from anorexia are exaggerated. And he's careful to name
names. Not quite as careful when he talks about how
many people die from obesity. His assumptions about
fat people just sail on their own wind. It's not like
he couldn't find a gazillion people to cite about the
horrors of being fat. But why bother?
I
guess he picks his ideas about what constitutes moral
panic and I pick mine.
500
calories a day. I mean. I don't know. It's not my area
of expertise. But I think even the diet trends allow
for 1000 calories a day.
Having
moved from flat line to a tiny pulse of interest I kept
trying to unpack the mash. And I read through the responses.
In one I found a
definition for eating disorder with which I more
or less agree.
An eating disorder–the actual condition–is defined by self-hatred
projected upon the body. Like I said, the body and the control forced
upon it are usually symbolic of a need to control one’s life or self.
It isn’t exactly about the body, although the body isn’t chosen at
random.
Something
about that made me think of the mechanics of dieting.
The weighing and measuring and obsessing. The hyper
vigilance that mimics self control. But then, I'm not
that interested in self control. I'm interested in being
awake. I'm interested in living with in some kind of
personal sense of good faith.
The
fellow who wrote the post feels
misunderstood and I hafta say, I read a lot of slagging.
My own first reaction to his post was disdain. I took
the time to read it a few times. I never quite shook
the disdain. His tone is just off putting. The myth
of anorexia?
One
of things I learned from Marya was that if your body
hasn't gotten any calcium for long enough your bones
become quite brittle. If you fall they can shatter.
Your bones can shatter and pierce your organs and
you can bleed internally. And you can die.
Peril.
In
the comments to his post about how blogging isn't the
best medium for conversation a woman writes:
I don't think a lot of the comments you've got have been addressing
your general argument about anorexia and Western society and
overcomsumption - they're addressing something else, that's pinged them
specifically from this part of your article:
So, please, ladies - the girl who has the body the rest of you
wish you had is not anorexic. The girl who delicately refuses the
eighteen-ounce wedge of deep-fried cheesecake the rest of you dive into
after dinner is not anorexic. The girl who is obsessed with fitting
back into those size 1 jeans is not anorexic. She’s just thinner than
you, knows how to say no to herself, and it makes you jealous.
I think that sounds to a lot of women like a very familiar voice - a
voice that many of us have been carrying around for most of our lives;
in my case, my father's voice. The girl who has the body you/I/we wish
you had is better than you. She is worth more. You? Are worth
less. Worthless, even. I'm aware that isn't what you said, and probably
wasn't what you intended to say - but that's what a lot of women seem
to have heard. Certainly, when I read it, that's what I hear. I've
heard that a lot at various times in my life and it's kind of a
perpetual background thing now. Leaving aside the fact that for
the sake of health losing weight is an excellent idea, and the fact
that yeah, it is connected to sexual attractiveness, which isn't a myth
but a fact you just have to live with - this idea that your worth as a
human being and your attractiveness as a woman are inextricably linked
is something a lot of us have been trying to get over for a
very long time. That's what a lot of the "feminazi" blogs I've been
reading seem to be addressing. I agree that they've missed your point,
but I think you're missing theirs. I don't think that 'talking past
each other's ears' effect is a fault of the medium in this case - it's
just a failure of empathy. Which happens.
The
bolding is mine. I think the woman is making a point
that is sincere and true for her but not true for me.
Eating
disorders are not my area of expertise. I don't have
an eating disorder. I have eaten in a disordered manner
occasionally but generally I eat within my own sense
of what works. Seasonal, regional, well prepared food.
Movement that feels good. Appetite is good. Pleasure
is good. Morality has little to with cheese cake.
I
just have not not not felt like writing.
Or reading. But the thing about having a
blog is that everything in your life becomes
a potential post. I've had all these random
not connected not quite a post thoughts.
Sarah
gave me some barley because she was giving
it up for Passover. I cooked it the way
you would cook risotto. Saute some shallot
(any onion will do and maybe add garlic)
and then add some barley and saute it for
a minute or so. Add chicken stock (or any
kind of stock) slowly stirring all the while.
When the grain had soaked up all the
stock, I added peas, left over chicken and
some Asiago. It was just so good!
I
wake up at night with what might be a night
sweat, except I'm not sweating. I am hot
and uncomfortable. If I kick the covers
off I get cold. If I push them down
to my waist I'm too hot under the covers
and too cold above them. (I'm sure there's
a joke in there somewhere.) I have to get
the covers half on length wise. Every time
I do it I think there must be some kind
of something I could write about how goofy
it is.
We
had lots of chat about emergency preparedness
yesterday because of the big
anniversary. Big emphasis on how the
individual needs to be prepared, which is
true of course, but it feels like a set
up to blame the victims. I have some water
in reused water bottles that may be toxic
it's been sitting there for so long. Some
dried food. Candles. Eh.
I
would be a failure as Jain.
The rain has driven the ants into my kitchen and I kill
them as fast I as I find them. Any little bit of food
calls to them so I'm always cleaning and taking out
the trash. The weather has been better.
The
pool is still closed. I need my pool.
Friends
have said that they worry that blogging takes all my
writing energy. But it works both ways. All this quotidian
mishmash pokes at me. It all seems like it could be
something. So I'm not really blocked. I'm just not sure
what I am. Kinda lost. Kinda tired. Kinda sad. But still
still sparking.
I
know a woman who wrote a whole book about
writers block as a way of working through
her own. I don't feel blocked. I feel lacking
in will. Completely. Not a fun place to
be.
I
jumped to this
site from Moe's comment and found that
she had very kindly linked me as a Fat
Blog. I'm always happy to be linked,
especially as a Fat blog. When I first read
how she described my blog I laughed.
Tish stumbles on and through a number of issues related to fat people
as well as working through issues in her personal life.
I
like the word stumble. It is my intention
to undermine my own authority. Why? Coz
I detest the expert culture. I don't like
what it does to individuals. I don't like
what it does to relationships. I don't like
what it does to thinking.
Individually
the expert culture goads the ego. Asks for absolutes
and hyperbole. Fosters bad manners in the name of chest
thumping. A person's wisdom becomes their product. Relationships
become competitive, strained by the need to pitch your
product. Thinking becomes aggressive and reductive.
Generally
speaking, I prefer dialogue, questioning,
thinking out loud. I often find myself,
in the middle of a sentence, realizing that
I don't believe what I'm saying. I'm saying
something out of habit. It is an uncomfortable
experience but I like it. I like the idea
that I am always changing.
I
am often delighted by the bombastic, self
assured, all that and then some people.
They can be fun. And I have my own lines
in the sand. But I foster a sense of uncertainty.
It may not be uncertainty. Maybe it's more
like ... process. Or something. And I may
have gone too far since now I find less
and less about which I want to expound.
But
the blog has always felt more like a message
in a bottle and less like column. I've made
the occasional effort to column-ize but
I always come back to the stumble.
And.
Ya know. I need to write more. That is a true thing.
I
have been watching the chef
show and I have my
favorite. The show has been more thought provoking
than I thought it might be after watching the first
episode.
I
remember opening a cooking magazine years ago and seeing
a full on glossy centerfold of Wolfgang
Puck. I liked glossy pictures. When I was a preteen
I had a wall full of glossy pictures of boys from bands.
I pressed my cheek against glossy cheeks and kissed
glossy lips before I went to glossy dreamy sleep. My
restaurant experience was all about chop vegetables,
carry stock pots. Not much gloss. It was sexy and there
were people who stood out. I imagined a kitchen covered
with glossy centerfolds of chefs. It took a long time
for me to understand how toxic the glossy centerfold
thing was.
Years
in professional kitchens, kitchens in New York, Colorado
and SF, taught me a lot. A lot about food and a lot
about people. The star thing can really mess with the
work. Watching this show reminds me of so many things.
What makes food good? When do you compromise? How do
you work with someone when they don't look at food the
way you do, or have a different level of work experience?
The
woman who I want to win has solid food skills, is able
to work well with others, knows when she hasn't done
her best and feels bad about it. She's very cool.
Julia
Child's effort was to demystify cooking. She wanted
people to try things. She wasn't setting herself up
as a star. She was welcoming you into her kitchen. I've
met a few of the stars. I interviewed with Bobby
Flay. He seemed like a nice man. It turned out that
the person he thought he was replacing wasn't going
to leave so he didn't have a job for me. But he spent
some time with me chatting and offered me something
to eat. I cooked in the James
Beard kitchen. I have my own inner wall of glossy
photos.
But,
it's work. It's hard work. I think that's evident on
the show and I also think it's evident that some people
care more about style and distinguishing themselves
than they do about feeding people. I've understood all
of the reasons for why each person got eliminated. And
I have questioned my own dislike of one
of the chefs. She has skills but she's got attitude.
I have wondered if my feelings about her attitudes are
somewhat sexist. They may be. But. I still hope she
goes home next week.
A
friend of mine, who I haven't seen in way too long,
left me a comment yesterday in which he remembers standing
in the kitchen watching me cook. I love that. I loved
that work. I love cooking a great meal for people. But
I am not a chef. I am a really, really good cook. A
chef knows more food science than I do. I would have
been stumped by many of the challenges given on the
show. Anthony
Bourdain says a chef needs to be willing to taste
anything. I agree. I even admire how far he takes it.
But I'm gonna pass on the seal
brains.
I
watch ER. I think they incorporate social
issues into their scripts fairly well. Two
of the doctors are in Darfur right now.
As I watched the show the other night I
wondered if it worked to educate people
or if it just made things less real. A humanitarian crisis
as backdrop for plot line and character
development may become like all the other
television. I wondered how they find the
people to do the filming and if they pay
them. They have a link to Save
Darfur on their
site.
Obviously
I want to hope that it is educational. The
rally in Washington is on CSPAN as I type.
The news is good.
If everything is a spectacle then maybe
spectacles that attempt to reveal and awake
are ... good. Something about money being
spent on swag
feels a little creepy but ... everything
needs funding.
I
sent a post
card. Despite the feeling that it will
fall on stubborn ears.