Fast times

It started when the waitress brought our fried vegetables, and there was a thick, pubic hair spiralling out of it. We protested and the waitress picked it out, flicked it on the floor, and then put the plate down for us saying “Sorry, there you go”. That was maybe the cue to pay and leave, but really, it’s not that big of a deal. I did complain to another waiter, but I only knew how to say “there was a hair in the food” in Cantonese, which just doesn’t have the same weight as a “pubic hair”. Anyway, he was very sweet and brought us back an even bigger dish, as well as bringing our original dish back just to prove they hadn’t given us the same food.
Apart from the hallucinations that come with poison derived fever, I never thought there was anything good about food poisoning … until now.
Three days without eating leaves a man somehow mentally cleansed. I usually trip over words and can’t communicate tête-à-tête, but after fasting for 3 days I found my mind actually able to express itself with speed and clarity. It’s been over a week now and I don’t feel hunger for anything. My old bedfellow, overindulgence, is conspicuously silent, and I feel liberated.
Oh, and during my convalescence, I finished Yukio Mishima’s “Spring Snow”. If anyone has the chance to read the end of this book, and follow Kiyoake’s descent into fever, while they themselves have a fever – I highly recommend it!