over dinner, we talked of arendt

i want to say something here about the bitter flippancy of melancholy, the taste of gall that rises in the throat, the pervasiveness of rain. i want to tell you about how the only constant is change, and that the difference between doing things for yourself & for others is marginal and superficial. i want to illustrate the taste of caramelized fennel with roasted pear and roquefort; i want to convince you that the preparation and enjoyment of food, the preparation and enjoyment of life, is a labour that should be exalted for, though its products are ephemeral, there is a residue that lingers. it lingers in art, yes, but in memories, too: the ability to remember, recreate, endure.