Taste Test

Another day, the same images. Grey skies, green trees, cat sitting on her perch looking out the windows—an endless, repetitive loop. Thin fog, high in the trees, causes the tops of forest green pines to appear sage. On my drive to pick up groceries, fog thicker than what I had seen through the windows at home, enshrouded the upper branches of the trees. A short while later, on the return trip, the haziness of the treetops had brightened a bit. Despite the improvement, the morning remains gloomy. Some days are better this way, though. If this morning had been bright and sunny, I would have witnessed a deliberate attempt by Nature to put me at odds with my environment. As if I did not belong in the same dimension as the world around me. Often, when I feel as I do this morning, I think of the lyrics of a song I enjoy: You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness… As if feeling melancholy and mournful are emotions to relish, rather than reject. Ach, for no apparent reasons, the mind can find its way into tangled mazes that have no entry and no exit points…and in there wander aimlessly until it exhausts its source of sullen fuel.


Ever since I started chemotherapy a few months ago, my hunger for beef has diminished considerably. The idea of a nice steak or burger can appeal to me, but my interest declines precipitously after the first bite. It’s not just beef; pork and chicken similarly are of declining attraction for me. I have been a fan of many kinds of sausages (beef or pork or mixed) for as long as I can recall, but lately I find them too fat-laden for my taste. I am not complaining. I rather appreciate the fact that I do not have such a strong hunger for meats. I am curious, though, about what is causing my change in taste. Is it the chemo? Or is there another reason for me to lose my attraction to meat products? When I have such questions, I tend to inquire of Google as to the answer. But I have not done so, yet. Maybe I will. Maybe not.


If you discover that I have posted nothing new for several days, fear not. It is probable that I am attempting to recover my creativity and sharpen my ability to think and write and question everything.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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