Yak Blanket Dreams

I fell asleep on the couch just after midnight watching The Cook the Thief His Wife & Her Lover, from 1989. I wrapped a yak blanket around myself and set sail down the black river. Sometime after noon the next day I pulled a plastic bag away from my cat, who was trying to eat it.

Albert: What you’ve got to realize is that the clever cook puts unlikely things together, like duck and orange, like pineapple and ham. It’s called ‘artistry’. You know, I am an artist the way I combine my business and my pleasure: Money’s my business, eating’s my pleasure and Georgie’s my pleasure, too, though in a more private kind of way than stuffing the mouth and feeding the sewers, though the pleasures are related because the naughty bits and the dirty bits are so close together that it just goes to show how eating and sex are related. Georgie’s naughty bits are nicely related, aren’t they, Georgie?

I dreamed a netbook connected me to the internet. I dreamed I was in the restaurant, angrily throwing plates and glasses under the wait station. I dreamed I waited on tables in my boxer shorts.

Georgina: [to Richard] He’s dead. They stuffed him with pages torn from his favourite book. Could you cook him?