Over the past week I’ve thought of a myriad of subject matter
to entertain you with, but here I am now in the flesh and my mind is drawing a
blank. Of course, I start many posts in a similar fashion and they turn out to
be just fine.
I am coming up on a sobriety anniversary which also
coincides with every other life-changing event that has occurred in my life.
Well, that’s not true, just the best life-changing
events have happened in the past 2+ years.
June 26th will mark the third anniversary that I
walked into the courtroom, knowing that I would not leave for a considerable
amount of time. I was strung-out on meth, had a black eye, and I had $78 to my
name. Oddly, I was happy that the whole process was going to be over, and I
could start on a new path, which I have adjusted but maintained now for nearly
three years.
Obviously, I can’t count my chickens before they’re hatched.
Some chickens will be stillborn and useless, and maybe some eggs were never
fertilized. Both ways they are all edible and I should be able to eat like a
king for a day or two just off of the unhatched eggs. Sorry, I got way off track there. What I
was trying to say is that there are still a little over two weeks until the
actual date, and as an addict I know that anything is possible. It is only
through work with a sponsor and sponsees that I am able to preserve one day at
a time with a clear(ish) mind.
Here’s something: did you know that in many restaurants,
your leftovers are scraped off of your plate into a large bucket, pureed, then
sold to pig farmers for food? (I mean the pigs eat the slop, not the farmers,
although I have no proof of that.) Normally, this occurs in larger businesses,
and the first time I saw it was actually in prison. We would shuffle through
the dish line after a meal and our leftovers would be tossed into a trough where
they were sent through something similar to a garbage disposal where the food
was “pulped,” stored, then sold to the highest bidder. In my current restaurant, the
process is similar, except we don’t do the blending. Just so you know, pigs eat
anything and everything, including bones, fat, stems, seeds, rinds, and yes,
pork.
All that said, pigs seem to have a similar diet to many
humans which makes me wonder what people taste like. Actually, I’ve wondered
for years, I’ve just not yet eaten human flesh. Now I have a hankerin’ for some
people-meat, and I don’t know what to do about it. Logic dictates that I could
cure this obsession by simply eating some bacon, but I just don’t think that
would be the same.
And there’s what you get with roughly three years of writing
experience paired with a mind free of chemicals and alcohol. You may think I’m
a crazy person, and you might be right. I might eat you.
