Slow Food: The torturously slow trials and tribulations of one man’s attempt to eat nothing but wild food for an entire year.
It’s kind of obvious I know, but blogging for me is futile in the sense that nutritionally speaking its value is worse than zero – resting and typing metabolism must be taken into account as sources of food energy consumption. That statement in itself should give you a good insight into my state of mind. Actually, in describing my anxieties and troubles (all of which seem to flow quite freely from the absurd task I’ve set myself: eating like a Stoneage man in the modern era – when I have so many other commitments other than just feeding myself) I would like to use the phrase, “perhaps I’ve bitten off more than I can chew”. Yet, although it would be incredibly apt, taken literally it seems to imply a surfeit of, no doubt delicious – all be it challenging – nourishing chewables: Succulent, wholesome and delicious chewables, all reflecting a luxurious abundance which is light years away from my current reality – they reside somewhere on planet supermarket no doubt. I’m struggling. I’m struggling big time! I’m struggling spiritually, emotionally, psychologically, socially, philosophically and physically – amongst the many other ways one can struggle. Chewables abound but sourcing them is a full time commitment. I both want and don’t want to give up and the ambivalent tension is quite disabling!