When I got home last night, I split an acorn squash in half and pealed a head of garlic that I put it into a crock filled with olive oil. I put both the squash and garlic in the oven. I made some honey-mustard dipping sauce with mayonnaise, maple syrup (didn’t have honey) and mustard. I turned on “The Godfather,” which I started watching the night before. I watched the movie while I ate raw broccoli dipped in syrup-mustard sauce waiting for the squash and garlic to cook.
When the squash and garlic were done, I put them on a plate and smashed the garlic, olive oil and a heap of salt into the squash’s flesh. I also put some Trader Joe’s tater-tots into the oven so I could continue eating after the squash. By the time the tater-tots were cooked, I ate most of the squash and was uncomfortably bloated. I ate the tater-tots anyway. The glut of food directed all of my body’s energy toward my digestive tract, making my theretofore racing mind docile.
I watched the end of “The Godfather” (which I’ve seen at least a dozen times before), and because it was early and I’d watched all of my Netflix DVD’s and I had no internet signal and didn’t want to read, I put in “The Godfather II.” I watched that for less than a half-hour before my food coma fully took hold. I managed to meditate for 15 minutes, my posture kept upright by an overstuffed intestine. I read a few pages of the book “Ishmael” and went to sleep around 11:00.
This is a rare glimpse into what I call my “anesthetic ecosystem.” It’s a solitary world that flourishes on weekday nights when I have no plans. It’s where I go when I don’t want to deal with shit. When I don’t want to maintain relationships. When I don’t want to overcome fear. When I don’t want to clean messes. When I don’t want to help anyone but myself. Continue reading “Anesthetic Ecology 101”