Wild One

To say that I have been reckless would be a bit of an understatement.

The revelations of the past few months — even of the past month — have inspired an elaborate wildness in me that the witnesses of my life are not quite accustomed to. You’re only young once, being the worried wisdom I’ve hung my hat on. Once, if you’re lucky.

Wild how? That I’ll leave to your imagination, reader. This has long become too public a forum for intimate confessions of that kind. I will say my diet has devolved into a grease-slicked jumble of delivered pizza, McMuffins and lots and lots of eggs on toast. I measure the togetherness of my life by my culinary output. And this salmon was the last real meal I made, more than a month ago.

And I’m kind of ok with it. I know I’m not supposed to be. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me that food is who I am, well… I’d be like five dollars richer.

It’s just that certain recent life-happenings have rendered the finer points of that hunger, for me, kind of relentlessly threadbare and empty. Food is who I was, maybe. But I suspect I was more.

(Of course the photographs will speak a different story. Real love never fades, only loses its urgency.)

Life hit me in the head with a brick this year. I have been disabused of some foundational certainties—namely, that life, livelihood and happiness are somehow guaranteed to the ones I love, and that I am owed my share of these riches.

The truth? Irreducible. It’s in the moments.

So what do you do? Only what you can. You swallow the medicine. You nurse the wildness in your heart — neglect to sleep, show up to work in yesterday’s clothes, loosen up and let it in. You curse the sun and make promises to the moon.

Friday night (or was it morning?) I found myself in an endless dark room, an Eyes Wide Shut tableau of men in bird-masks and women in black wings and hammering drums that robbed me of all thought. Occasional strobes of light showed only flashes of a recognized face and my ankles were dizzy and weak but I couldn’t stop dancing.

Then in the morning something happened. I woke up soberer than ever before and, wide awake, started to find my way.

9 thoughts on “Wild One

  1. Kaitlin says:

    I had a reckless phase awhile ago as a result of some not-so-great stuff and I don’t regret it at all. It was good for me and it helped me get a better idea of who I am and what I want.

    Do what makes you happy. If you continue to share it with us, I’ll be thrilled. If not, I get it. Either way, I wish you all the best.

  2. Natalie says:

    Hi Angela, I really love your blog and am glad to see you writing. Sorry about the difficult circumstances in your life right now… The idea of hunger and appetite is so interesting to me… how hungers for different things in life (for food, people, experiences, etc.) can be retracted in parallel. I’ve been reading MFK Fisher’s letters and it becomes quite apparent that her hunger for food is sometimes just the most immediate, most visceral manifestation of her hunger for things just as physical, like men and sex. Anyhow, that may be tangential, but interesting brain fodder for the day. Sending well wishes.

  3. Lael Hazan @educatedpalate says:

    Good luck and good humor. As someone who is going through her own Dali Rollercoaster year I find that keeping one’s head on straight starts with getting out of bed when you can and getting one’s clothes on. After that, all is a victory. If you can find humor in your surreal experience, you’ve won.

  4. Muslim Hippie says:

    I love your honesty and the way your soul leaps out of your words. I have been following you for two years now, and you never dissappoint (food or otherwise). I’m rooting for you! Thank you for sharing.

  5. kellypea says:

    So enjoyed this — it left me thinking hard and that’s not usually what happens after I read something on a food focused blog. It’s refreshing even though what you’ve described may not be. Or is it? Wonderful writing…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s