Saturday, May 19, 2012


I miss bacon. God, do I miss bacon — the salty chew, the greasy fingers, even the smell that lingers in the kitchen and in my hair after cooking it. Some of my best memories include bacon; there's a place in Memphis called Cockadoos and the bacon there was sublime, making for a dining experience that was matched only by the company.

Bacon's been off the menu since the first of this year. So has red meat, with only one or two exceptions. It's been fish and chicken, chicken and fish — and did I mention fish? In addition to modifying the fuel intake I drastically cut back on the soda ("pop," says the voice of TV director Keith, a Kansas City native), down to maybe a soda (pop!) every couple weeks, max.

Cholesterol is down by more than 80 points from last year — bully! — and I don't come anywhere close to 145 pounds, a vast improvement from last year's fat-and-happy 160.

Goddamn, but life sucks.

I did all these things at the start of 2012 for several reasons, but mostly because I didn't want to die before my time. Fifty-one may not seem like a decrepit age to most thinking people, but I've met plenty of people in their 40s who look ready for their winding shrouds. There is a small, dark, capering monster inside me who rubs his hands together at the notion of premature death for others, probably because that little rat bastard wants all the bacon to himself.

But that wasn't the only reason I decided to make big changes in my life (did I mention I stopped drinking coffee and switched to tea? And did I mention that life sucks?). I stopped watching so much TV and started reading more. I started meditating — a lot. The past year of my life has been such a tumult that I figured the only way to stop the madness was by switching it all up, making drastic changes to the status quo.

I didn't think things could get worse than they'd been at the end of last year. That is, of course — how do they say it in French? — fucking laughable. What I thought was the end of the world was just a twisted ankle; I had no idea that it would be followed by a broken back, a fractured skull and a severed spinal column (metaphorically speaking: in more literal terms, it's been a cancer scare, a monkey on my back and a stroke).

Not to say the twisted ankle was no big deal. It was, and still is, and likely will be until I get wheeled into the crematory and fitted for an urn. That's what happens when you meet your fate, your destiny; it can't be taken from us (though I would quibble at this moment with Dante Alighieri's notion that fate is a gift. Talk about divine comedy).

Fate took a different turn that I expected; perhaps in the weird parallel universe Ron and his fate are enjoying the first day of their planned vacation in Brazil. Then again, as my friend Scott said, maybe the parallel universe Ron (he doesn't have facial hair over there, so he's evil) is arguing with his pretty companion in Rio — and in that universe she could stand to lose a few pounds. All things in balance.

And all things in moderation. I miss bacon and red meat and soda (pop!), so maybe I'll eat a bacon burger sometime in the next month and wash it down with a Code Red. I miss watching TV, so maybe I'll compromise and do more catching up on Hulu and Netflix.

I miss my fate, too. But that one's not so easy to remedy. Time to meditate, and wish for a glimpse into the parallel universe. I hope they're happy over there.

1 comment:

dirtsister said...

"Treasure here.
Sunken there.
Buried treasure everywhere."
Sammy Hagar.