Sickness

Yesterday, I was sick. Today, at first, I was sick. But I'm not sick any longer. I broke the sickness with the Feast of the Burrito.

Every sickness I have ever had was broken with the Feast of the Burrito. There was this one time, that I was love sick, and since I ate burritos with this boy I found it hard to recover from the heart sickness with the feast of the burrito. But I did it anyway.

While I was eating this burrito I thought of all the previous burritos I had eaten. I ate one burrito in the summer time, on the beach, when for some reason my face looked swollen and possessed, like a disfigured Mr. Potato. I was very sick, and found myself in the back of a car, and then, inexplicably, at a fair. I don't remember why I was there. But I wandered and decided to eat something, and got a gargantuan burrito. There is no way I will finish this, I thought to myself. But I ate it, all of it, and afterwards was very surprised at myself and my hunger. From that day on I was no longer sick. That was the first Feast of the Burrito.

The magic of the Feast of the Burrito is the ritual. The ritual causes you to think or realize things in a different manner than you would ever have thought or realized them before. The thoughts you have during the Feast of the Burrito are very significant. This feast, I thought of this one girl who I saw in the dining hall when I was an undergraduate, who was probably an anorexic. She was very very skinny. She never ate anything and she looked sad most of the time. I remember one time I was walking by her and she had in her tray a whole pizza. And she was smiling, the type of smile that threatens to levitate one if you're not careful. She looked beyond happy. After she left the dining hall she looked sad again, and I noticed she hadn't eaten her pizza. I thought about this as I ate my burrito, I don't know why. I will always remember the way that this girl smiled, and she probably will never remember it, not having seen herself with the smile, or even knowing who I was and that I saw her there every day, not eating and so sad because of it.

I can't remember what other thoughts I had during the Feast of the Burrito. While I was waiting there was a girl who was being very rude to the man making the burritos, and I wished that I could trip her without her knowing it was me. It was a ridiculous thought because I couldn't possibly defend myself against this girl if she found out that I had tripped her. She wasn't that much bigger than me but I couldn't ever get in a fight if I were the instigator, I know I would lose. I will probably never be in a fight, and I don't know how I feel about this. There are definitely days when I wish a good ass-kicking upon someone, and I imagine that I would be okay giving the ass kicking. But in reality fights are dirty and nasty, at least the ones that I've seen. I don't exercise or condone violence, but I don't think I'm a pacifist. I think most people who claim to be pacifists simply don't understand violence.

When you're in sickness you feel yourself wavering, in between two worlds. This is called, being on the threshold. The threshold is a special place you can only inhabit when you're sick. Since you're not there that often, you feel strange while on the threshold, and this strangeness could be the strangeness of the threshold, or the strangeness of you, or just the impossibility of what's to tell. It causes you and the threshold to be one, and all activities that transpire in the threshold are significant.


I've probably had at least five of those gargantuan burritos, and I have to say each one is revolutionary. It requires a lot of energy to digest, so I'm going to depart. I'll be back later with real news.