The Visible Man

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One thing that I love is to cook for my woman. I would say cook for my family, but my daughter will not eat with me, much less what I cook. But I find a great and deep pleasure in cooking a good meal for that woman with whom I live.

It's nice, also, that she enjoys what I make for us.



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Tonight it is Island Pork Tenderloin on a bed of baby spinach. Oranges and avocado and raisins and red bell peppers and cabbage and a vinagrette of lime juice, orange juice, toasted curry powder, salt and pepper.

Yum-bo.


Last night was this roasted butternut and acorn squash soup with gruyere croutons.



To. Die. For.


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I think that creating art and writing poems and making very, very good food and drinking too much is a nice foil for pointing guns, hitting people, and putting people in prison for hundreds of years.


And vice-versa.

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That is why I am an asshole. I really like hitting people with metal sticks, or my fists. I actually enjoy pointing guns and yelling. When I am standing over some dead person, it kind of makes my day.


You all can leave now, if you want.


I don't blame you.


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