Ted (merovingian) wrote,

"There's a neurotic language of pasta," he told me cheerily.

I stood in his kitchen nervously.

"I spent a long time identifying everything I'm neurotic about. Every strand of irrational in my head. I assigned each one a pasta ingredient, and over time I came to associate the ingredient with the doubt or fear or anger or whatever. So when I'm upset, I toss together a pasta with all the right ingredients with some penne, cook it up, and eat it, and I always feel a lot better. Acknowledhe the trouble then disregard it, that's what I say."

That actually sounds pretty good, I thought, and it must have shown on my face, because he scowled at me, "You can't have any. My pasta makes other people go inside. I made you some soup instead."

Happy Hannukah!
  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 1 comment