Health Conscious
:

I have to go to Sydney so I ring a friend
& ask if I can stay at his place.
He doesn’t sound keen
coz he’s just said goodbye to a set of drop-ins.
But, he says, if you can’t find anywhere else,
you can stay here I guess.

I arrive in a low-key way.
He gives me futon & blankets
& some space on his loungeroom floor.
He’s busy preparing dinner
so I try not to get in his way.
He invites me to share his meal
which seems to have taken hours to prepare.

He gives me a tiny bowl containing macrobiotic food.
What’s in it, I ask.
He tells me the ingredients
but their names are as strange as the texture.
He chews with a commitment
that makes conversation impossible.
I swallow my first mouthfuls quickly
& he chews at me thoughtfully.
It’s good to be patient with food, he says.

I avoid his eyes by leaving the table
& walking to the sink.
Is this water ok to drink, I ask.
He waves his spoon at me & chews.
It’s tap water, you know what tap water’s like.
I’m thirsty so I drink it.
It’s best to drink before or after meals,
not during, he says, & sip, don’t gulp.
I manage to finish my bowl, slowly.
More, he says.
No, I’ve had enough.

After the meal he talks slowly
about his previous life-style which had turned
his body into a waste disposal unit.
He tells of excesses I still delight in.
But I love junk food, I say.
I can tell, he says.
His voice is so earnest I take out my exercise book
& take notes as he gives me advice about my body.

If you’re going to change your diet, do it slowly,
he says, keep eating white meat, get into more grains
& vegies...fresh & organic, drink bancha tea,
get sea salt into your cooking, & sea vegies...ask
someone about meditating; don’t take my word for anything, I may be wrong; don’t say blah blah told me to do this or that, take responsibility for your actions;
remember to look after your body
it’s the only one you have.

He says goodnight & walks into his room
where he goes to bed at exactly ten o’clock.
It’s too early for me so I go for a walk
around Darlinghurst where I’m pushed around
by pedestrians, cars & food smells.
I duck into a shop for dim sims & donuts
& eat the fast food quickly, in a back lane.

I return to his home, squeeze the front door open,
walk to the futon & ease myself in.
I hope I don’t snore tonite.
I’d like to go to the toilet
but that may be too noisy.
I need to burp so I tip-toe to the window
& let go into the wind
hoping the smell won’t curl in
thru his bedroom window to wake him
from his macrobiotic sleep.

Myron Lysenko
(c) 5.11.02