So I make music on occasion. And very occasional I make a whole album. My new one comes out in Oct. First single, leng. Enjoy
Since I am in between projects for a few days, I threw together a few fun personal food facts that persons who know me can utilize to explain my somewhat (according to them) odd food ways and means…
1. I had no idea what a casserole was until I was about 20. We never had them when I was a kid and only knew that “tuna casserole” was some disgusting food thanks to TV sitcoms.
Note: The idea of making, eating or looking at a casserole even to this day is disgusting to me. Gross. A pan filled with a miscellany of foods and baked together. Only Lasagna is acceptable as it is technically a casserole.
2. I had no idea what the term “seconds” was until I was in my late teens. My parents being avid fitness and nutrition folks only ever made meals sized to how much we would eat and my sister and I ate like birds. We didn’t like food. We never had leftovers.
I went to someones house once and they asked “do you want seconds?”… I assumed it was some kind of ethnic dessert (they being slightly olive in complexion, thus “ethnic” in my hometown). I said “yes please!” being a polite child. I was given a second plate of food. I was in horror. I barely ate the first. I started to cry part way into it, I couldn’t eat all of this!! I said “thank you, I don’t feel well” and ran home.
*Granted, I also had no idea what my last name was until the first day of kindergarten when they called out first and last names. I thought they were making fun of me when they did as people laughed at my lack of response. Yes, I grew up in one of THOSE households.
3. We never had desserts at my house except on very special occasions. Once or twice my mother did try to make a black forest cake and failed miserably as I remember. When my sister and I went to grandparents homes we scoured them for treats. When I went to someones house on a mid week summers day and they had pie after a simple, basic meal I was aghast. Was it a birthday party? What happened? Why is this thing here on the table? Are we allowed? Maybe just a little piece.
4. I never, ever, ever have had a birthday party or a birthday cake. Ever.
5. I only had a vague idea what brown bagging or “doggy bag” meant again from TV sitcoms primarily. I ate all three meals at home most every single day of my childhood except special occasions where we went to an actual sit down, very expensive (for the area I grew up in) dress up place. I thought everyone did this. I had no idea for years that we had fast food in my city. When I finally did go to a Harvey’s ™ I was grossed out by the consistency of the burger I excitedly ordered and couldn’t finish it.
6. We only ate beef 1-2 times a week and for a good three years we primarily ate Asian and Caribbean food. Seafood was was a staple. I thought only rednecks and cavemen ate beef and pork all the time. We very rarely had pork.
7. We ate more rice than potatoes which were were a strange anomalous thing we only had with turkey at xmas or occasionally as mashed potatoes which as I remember my mother could never get right. Once she blended them and produced an inedible paste.
8. Food was never an event, it was just something we needed. I’d show up at the table at breakfast or at home lunch and dinner and something my mother threw together would be ready to eat. I never took part in the cooking and it wasn’t until college that I actually knew how to make kraft dinner (which is again, disgusting).
9. I don’t like eggs. I eat eggs but don’t like them. I would tell people I was allergic to them to keep from being given any or anything that contained eggs.
Thus, I am not a foodie. I do eat, surprisingly, but merely to end a craving. I don’t care about food generally. I have a LONG list of things I do not eat or like to eat but generally I can eat most anything. If I could get Jetson’s food pills I could have a good two hours back each day and that would be okay with me.
I see the minute and I am angry
Fleeting seconds flit by
Tick tick tick
One minute of one hour of one day
I see the day and I am angry
So few per month
Some bastards even have only Thirty
One only twenty eight.
Go and take it away
I see the year and I am crushed
Yet another summer not so productive
No decent holiday
No memorable trips for the children
Yet winter looms
And I plan for the next
I see my birthday and I an saddened
Another reminder of the cresting wave
At best I am half way
At worst, tomorrow’s sad tale
And regret frosts the cake
Yet the bliss of forgetfulness eludes me
And the children leave home
to tell tales of an unhappy father
And how they won’t be so
And that terrible song from the sixties plays
Cats in the Cradle
There is always still time