This week i have mainly been eating heart.

Part of my on-going quest to try some different cuts of meat. Diaphragm skirt was a wee while ago (splendid in a stew), tried a pheasant over chrimbo (way over-cooked it), had some ox cheek last week (real good, fall apart moist-mouthed-munchery), and this week its been heart. Ive noticed that there seems to be two aspects of my mind working almost against one another whilst ive been eating it.  The dominant one, the one which is screaming loudly, brusquely into my carnivorous ear is shouting ‘this is a heart, A HEART!, an actual real-to-goodness-blood-pumping-seat-of-all-emotion-home-to-that-unknowable-abstract-entity-the-soul heart’. The lesser voice, the one to which im trying to focus on is saying ‘mmmmmm tastes real beefy, dark-refined-distilled-essence-of-cow’.

I would say im a pretty rational, logical, god-less little fucker most of the time. I know whoever or whatever i am cannot and does not sit housed in what essentially is a meaty pump (mmmm really selling it with that description, no?) yet a few thousand years of indoctrination to the idea that ‘her heart yearns, my heart was pierced with one look, his broken heart wouldnt allow……..’ is going to take more than a beetroot, clementine, heart and bacon salad to diffuse.

I dont believe ‘i’ or ‘me’ is housed, or perhaps more fittingly, caged, in any aspect of this crumbling flesh sack (admirably handsome crumbling flesh sack perhaps!). When i try to focus on the essence of me, its so ethereal, so removed from anything physical or corporeal that to mentally tie me to any choice cut of flesh seems utterly absurd. ‘Me” is devoid of any geographical or chronological (or any other ‘ical’ my tiny mind could think of) constraints. I dont know where or even what this ‘me’ is, but i do know it aint constrained by anything. And certainly not something as fragile and temporary as meat.

When i die it would not bother me a jot if something ate my heart. Let the carrion feast i say. Let the worm slumber long from his food coma within my chest. Let the bacteria split split and split ever-ending within my cavities.

Heart. It really does taste good. Just got to shake some absurd ideas out of my hair.

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