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NOT EATING AS A FORM OF FASTING

Elbowed aside from these humble chronicles by the mysterious affair of the flaming feet, I've hardly been able to get a word in edgewise for the past week, to mention for example the fact that for said week Echo's hot feet have taken her up north to visit her folks and Kasumi's family, with its world-famous twins, while I keeping the homefires burning and devolve into the big-course-load collegiate sloven I used to enjoy being (does one ever truly depart the summits of slovenliness?), eating simple fast-cook one-bowl meals interspersed with emergency junk food (hey, I'm not fussy) and rationalizing dirty dishes (they're only for one person today as well; I'll do them all tomorrow).

While having neither an interest in satisfying every single little nitpicking healthy food-craving whim of this endlessly hungry beast, nor in any case the desire to take all that time to figure out how to feed it properly (and just one individual, even if it is me!), beyond maybe the occasional single-bowl meal aforesaid, I've come to realize under the auspices of this odd hunger how much I still don't know, not only about the more detailed kitchen-y aspects of yours truly and the finer culinary secrets of Echo, but also about all the finer processes of Japanese cooking, not to mention where everything is and who I really am, what life is all about, when do we eat, where did Echo hide those cookies etc. You can learn a lot from not eating.