The Dis-Disconnect

A response is simple, I suppose.

Playing the part of the contrarian is to borrow very little from the creative realm, and I play it daily, shedding unsolicited critiques upon topics well beyond my scope or sympathy. I make a game of it. And, quite often, I make an ass of myself: I step on toes.

Independent creation seems altogether more difficult. There is no obvious beginning, no sincere soul to contradict. A side table of half-empty water glasses and completely-empty coffee mugs offers little help in the writing of a first post. I glance to my left often: Nothing - not a peep!

I've created a blog to help give form to my daily ruminations (most of them pertaining to food, its preparation and consumption). My day, however, ends with the disconcerting consideration that whatever it was I once deemed worthy of writing, of forming, never really was. -- For instance, today I mistakenly bought Greek coffee from the local Halal market (which cannot be made in an American style coffee maker). Remembering a previous infatuation I had with the stuff, and upon realizing what it actually was, I managed to spend a considerable portion of my evening researching my clay-colored soot.

And yet, the excitement I found in my friendly faux pa appears pale and drab the moment Times Roman provides a form. I'm enthusiastic inwardly. Still. But I am no M.F.K. Fisher.

For what it's worth, when freed to think as I pleased, I thought a lot about goat cubes, coffee, and places of human communion.

And for what it's worth, when I thought my freed thoughts, I felt much less inclined to perceive of my academic distress as something monumental. It felt fleeting when contrasted with the hearty permanence of fundamental foods and beers and friends - the tangibles.