wildcat

We wanted lobster, but the sale didn't start until the day after, so instead Michael and I bought crab. There was a big pot of water for boiling, Michael performed some Indian magic to "draw butter" (he made me put the pen and pad of paper away), we had asparagus and potatoes. It was all very good, but the experience was a bit disorienting; alive, then dead. We were capable of doing it ourselves, rather than faceless cows bred for tender loins and killed by faceless corporate slaves, so I don't feel bad about it and I continue to eat seafood. The only thing that really disturbed me was the calm cooking instructions we found on the Net that described how to kill a crab in various fashions. We elected to do the pot and nothing else to minimize things.

And I'm looking forward to having lobster again; it's been a few years, and they taste lovely when spiced with lemon and butter.

The beginnings of a story in my head, which been around in various forms for a few months, and now needs to be written. I don't know. It's very surreal, as usual, but I think it might get even more surreal as the writing progresses.

Thinking about rearranging furniture to counter some kind of desperate tedium that crept up on me at midnight last night.