God In Pig's Blood

[Chiko]

God in Pig's Blood.

I see you.

You're like a caged animal. Either pacing or talking to somebody then wandering off to gaze at empty space. A "Hello?" causes your train of thought to crash. And you start talking again. And you run when it gets bad.

Once you ran, you thought you were going to break the speed barrier before you realized that...you were in Locke Lounge. And you had to break the run, stumble, and go ohshit, the momentum driving you to jump on the chair against the wall. Your friends are wide-eyed and telling you to slow it down.

You're panting. You tasted it. During your run. The divine bliss. The runner's high. That drink of the gods. Adrenaline. Mother of fight or flight. Primal nourishing waters coursing through your veins.

And you want it back. Once, you remember. That joy, that natural high, that zest for life, the divine was with you. Is this what they called innocence? And then you started questioning.

You grew up. You banished yourself from the church. Disagreeing with their methods. Your father died. You lost the spark and drowned yourself in numbing waters. A hole in your heart.

But you never really forgot. That taste of the spark, that ecstasy. And you looked at the masses. You know. Them. The tired ones. With their dead eyes, barely surviving. Waiting for death to claim them, already dead inside. And you were terrified.

That you would end up like. Them. And you vowed never to be like that. But sometimes simple lethargy was so much easier...and you learned why barely surviving was so tempting...

But now you are in flames, in fever. With more and more regular intensity. And you know, when all is said and done, you will be called a madman, with a manic eye and a crooked smile in your intensity of life.

Or maybe you are just simply being dramatic. You enjoyed the cooked pig's blood with the meat. Native dish. The first time you ate it...it was bitter...told by mother that it was chocolate.

But now... you savored it, tasted it, sucked the juices out of it, ate it slow and steady. Made the dish a delicacy. A feast for the senses. And you breathed. Meditative state. It was heaven.

Peace.
I seen you eat. A vacuum, a black hole. You just suck up the food and it's never seen again. Frentic gobblings just so you can do the next feel-good-empty-feeling thing. Mandatory fuel for a biomechanical meat body. But this. This. Was different. This was how one is supposed to eat. With pleasure. With gusto.

An art of the primal act of sustainance.

And you weren't the only one. James joined you. Your joy spread. You delighted in it. In your enjoying of the meat. And the talking of the joys of savoring it. It was a different...atmosphere. Delighted in how he joined you in your culinary happiness. Instead of just sucking up the food like some common vaccum cleaner.

And for once, you understood, why people ate to enjoy themselves. It's an art...if done right. And you learned that simple pleasures are sometimes the best.

God in Pig's Blood, you think. You thanked the pig.

And you smiled.