I am currently munching on a nectarine: one of nature's sly fruits. It seduces you with its sweet, juicy flesh and then BAM! it hits you with a hairy wooden rock the size of a baby's fist right in the smacker. The peach and the plum are similarly tricksy fruits, with seeded grapes coming a close third (although admittedly pleasure has been known to be found in the outdoor-spitting of grape seeds). The mango is a particularly wily one, it must be said; not only is it 98% stone, the skin is inedible too, being reminiscent of greenish shoe leather. Still, it’s a nice piece of fruit, this nectarine, solidly kicking the ass of the sad brownish banana currently getting warm in my lunch-bag which will only be eaten in the case of the 3 o'clock slump^TM (copyright Knorr 2003).

Those of you who frequent this blog frequently (ha!) may have noticed a new link to the right - The Vegan Lunch-Box - which I inadvertently discovered during a sweep of the internet for some kind of hippyish bullshit recipe (no doubt filled with chickpeas). Anyway, if you like food blogs (which I didn't know I did), you will love this. I read every single entry posted since its conception over two hundred years ago and have been inspired (truly) by the creative way the author feeds her son vegan food, which of course I had previously assumed was just cans of chickpeas eaten with a spoon. I became so inspired in fact that I broke my lifetime habit of buying lunches from the local delis near where I work and started bringing my own. Helloooo lentil burgers for lunch! It's been great, but there's been something amiss: a lack of an exciting lunch-box in which to place my lentil burgers. And so I have purchased myself the last four items I will ever need. My consumerism is officially over. Thanks to ebay, I've now got a dinky bento box, miniature saucepots for bringing my salad dressings to work, a MATCHING BAG for the lunch box (no more wasting paper and plastic bags for me, noooo sir) and a little thermos flask for soups and meatballs. I am so excited about having my own compartmentalised lunch box that I think I might be mentally ill. Either that, or my life in general has faded to such a murky shade of grey that the purchase of even the smallest of plastic goods manages to punctuate the equilibrium of my workaday existence to an alarming degree. What I am trying to get at is that having a nice new lunch box makes me happy. Possibly happier than I have ever been. Around about midday Monday to Friday now brings a euphoric hit similar to that of taking an E. A similar sensation hits when preparing my lunch the night before. And while I am of course subtly using satire here to demonstrate the temporary sense of fulfillment offered by consumer goods (hell, how did “retail therapy” become a viable phrase for fork's sake?) unfortunately even if you trim the hyperbole all of the above remains true. The moral of the story is that everybody needs a bento box. Maybe as much, if not more, than they need Jesus. I would particularly recommend one if you have no friends: you can whisper your secrets to it on the train on the way into work.

Speaking of friends, I am thinking of writing my philosophy research masters thesis on the topic of friendship. Friends: How Can I Get One? is one possible title. Adjusting Your Personality To Fit In With The Help of The Ancients is another. What Is Friendship and Does It Truly Exist is the third and final option. I don’t know much (or anything) about the subject but am looking forward to giving it a go. Also, I am really hoping that my supervisor will get in on the project with me – maybe we could go out for dinner together a couple of evenings a week to discuss it? Or they could come down to my country house on the weekends and we could read silently side by side in the garden, just comfortable to be around each other.

neuro-praxis -- Push It Uh Huh Uh Huh