One thing that I love is to cook for my woman. I would say cook for my family, but my daughter will not eat with me, much less what I cook. But I find a great and deep pleasure in cooking a good meal for that woman with whom I live.

It’s nice, also, that she enjoys what I make for us.


Tonight it is Island Pork Tenderloin on a bed of baby spinach. Oranges and avocado and raisins and red bell peppers and cabbage and a vinagrette of lime juice, orange juice, toasted curry powder, salt and pepper.


Last night was this roasted butternut and acorn squash soup with gruyere croutons.

To. Die. For.


I think that creating art and writing poems and making very, very good food and drinking too much is a nice foil for pointing guns, hitting people, and putting people in prison for hundreds of years.

And vice-versa.


That is why I am an asshole. I really like hitting people with metal sticks, or my fists. I actually enjoy pointing guns and yelling. When I am standing over some dead person, it kind of makes my day.

You all can leave now, if you want.

I don’t blame you.