To eat.To drink

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story about the nature of eating and drinking

Submitted: October 16, 2011

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Submitted: October 16, 2011




To eat.To drink. 

Part 1.


More or less sleepy,more or less dizzy,I was choked by this coldness,but alerted to some extent. I was too quick to understand the feeble existence of the surrounding,for I was simply too slow to adapt it. 


This thought alone was grave enough,intolerable and unbearable. Yet it didn’t weigh that much on the dying me who had more problems to surface and less problems to care about. The dying end seemed clearer as my poor vision became blurrier. 


I would just fall apart,inside out. Or perhaps because of my insides decayed that I would fall apart. Which was the starting point? I tried to think during those formative years. But my formative years did not form,or formulate,any discernible forms,as I had wishfully thought and later on wishlessly admitted. But what’s beginning of my death,I couldn’t remember.


And right now,things went backwards and oppositely. I no longer questioned the formless formative years. I no longer forced out possible explanations for questions impossible to inquire. Weight became lightness. Like an insatiable fat worm transforming into a dying moth,vying to kill itself on the warmth of flame. The flame that contains all the alluring,warm satisfaction that the worm has been pursuing. All gone into light,soothing ashes. All blown up in the wind,mixing with ashes of anything else.


But I wouldn’t have any ash. Not because I didn’t like this idea of returning to the Creator. But simply the lightness,of all those weight, that still graved me.


So I thought about these lightness:


1.To eat. 

Let me clarify it. To eat ? want to eat. To eat ? able to eat. It’s just a daily work(if it’s provided on a daily basis of course),like a tomb raider digging a hole in a tomb,later refilling it at the end of his clandestine odyssey. It’s simply a chore. It’s neither the desire(want to eat) nor the ability(able to eat).


It came in many forms.Bite,nib,crunch,chew,swallow.etc. The end always is the same. My body enzymes cheerfully welcome any ways of “to eat”, accepting the remnants madly by its universal will of acceptance. 

So “how to eat” does not necessitate the form of the end product.Rather it is the chore of this mechanic movement that determines the end product. So I just eat, choosing to ignore what the food really is, concerning how many final products can possibly be made,to satisfy the daily chore.



2.To drink 

Similarly,as I pleasantly saved more brain cells for thinking,ditto. Drinking comes in two form,unlike eating in one only.


Eating is inborn. Drinking can be inborn or learnt.


People drink Coca Cola; it is learnt.

People drink Alcohol; it is inborn(drinkers have this thing called alcoholic gene).


But to me,drinking,to make it an easy way,comes in the latter form(not alcohol of course). “To drink” is a good virtue,as one enjoys what is given rather than ransacking for what is not. I willingly took this virtue.

  Alas,this is still a chore.


  eating=chore. Drinking=chore. Eating+Drinking=chores. 

  Inborn pleasure=virtue. Eating+Drinking=Virtues.


  My virtues re-confirmed my continuation of virtues.So I should try to eat,and drink,to the last bit. 



Part 2.


 “Mom.The goldfish’s dead. Rachel overfed it!”


 “Don’t blame your little sister. It’s fine,sweetheart. Let’s just get a new one.”




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