on cooking and “domestic bliss”

i had an epiphany the other night in the middle of wal-mart, amidst home furnishings and panic attacks…. i let my ex ruin any motivation and love i had for cooking for my family… for my loved ones…

yes, i still cook. on rare occasions. when i feel like it. sometimes i even do it for real, on the stove, and it’s not ramen! i throw on some chicken, with some herbs and spices…

but generally speaking, in the last three years, i haven’t even cared.

i used to cook all the time. i used to love it. i had cookbooks out the ass…. i even made up weekly menus!

now? we eat junk food and rice and ramen… sometimes we eat fast food. because i just don’t give a fuck anymore. i don’t see the point in it. why should i bother? i don’t want to invest my time and energy into something so passionate as food and cooking when i know it’s just going to blow up in my face.

the reality is, at any moment, life can, and will, blow up in your face.

it doesn’t matter how secure you think you are, not a damn thing is sacred anymore, and nothing is safe.

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