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A Guest Post by Charlie Sosnick
TW: Eating disorder stuff
For the past 5 months exactly, I have been writing a poem called Food Diary. Food Diary is a record of everything I eat and drink. I will continue for another 7 months until I have a year of entries, at which point Food Diary will be completed. At the conclusion of the year, I plan to publish Food Diary in its entirety as a book.
Ritam and Nabeel have kindly asked me to select five interesting entries for their readers and provide some commentary.
For a time, I posted each day’s entry, but I stopped because people kept asking me questions. I will answer them now:
Is Food Diary real?
Food Diary is completely accurate to the best of my effort.
How do you feel?
Generally, very good! My doctor said I’m in great health at my most recent physical. Trust him — he went to Cornell.
Are you ok?
Turning 26 hit me harder than expected. I always knew this whole comedy/writing/art thing was going to be hard, but the older you get, you realize what that actually means, for something to be hard. Health insurance. Buying a house. Those aren’t abstract concepts. Don’t get me wrong. I love that guys come up to me and say they saw the Podcast Rap on Twitter and we chat and it turns out we both like disc golf. But I need some straight up Hollyweird Sickos to fuck with me on a monetary level. I’m very lucky in a million ways and I’ve figured out a good niche that allows me to support myself and still do what I love, so I can’t complain. But there’s this hole in me that aches for a bigger project, that wants to build something with other people, something that other people care about, and not just sit hunched over my Macbook Pro in a coworking space drinking Celsius all day going boo-hoo, poor me. I want to be at Vice in 2002.
This is pretty eating disorder-coded.
Yeah, eating dis-order of fries! No, seriously, that’s a bummer and I’m sorry if it makes you feel that way. But while you spent your formative years looking at images of Kate Moss smoking a cigarette, I watched groups of men make Epic Meals with bacon strips and bacon strips and bacon strips. I suppose we’re all products of our environment.
Height: 5’10” (If you attempt to verify this in person I will stab you.)
Weight: 170 lbs (in all the right places)
Daily Average Step Count: 10,019
Yearly Income: $60-90k (Freelance)
Average Weekly Loose Stools: 1-2
Marital Status: Dating Beautiful Graduate Student
Burger and fries
A few chips
There’s a beautiful symmetry here between Coffee / Coffee / Coffee and Beer / Beer / Beer. Rule of Threes.
The soju watermelon was literally a hollowed-out watermelon filled with blended watermelon pulp and soju. So fun! And so it’s a memory. The food has to be fun to be a memory.
Half bottle of red wine
Spoonfuls of peanut butter
With all this talk of “girl dinner,” you’d think today’s females would show some respect to killing the leftover red wine and eating Skippy out of the jar, then going to bed, then getting back out of bed for some instant miso soup. You’d be wrong.
3 Hershey Kisses
2 slices of pizza
There’s a bowl of Hershey Kisses at my coworking space, so I eat them a lot now. I would never, ever, ever buy them. They tase like gypsum. But the unwrapping aspect makes them especially satisfying to eat in quick succession. It mimics the feeling of edamame or pistachios, which also have this kinesthetic fun factor. I feel like an otter cracking clams.
Full Scottish (2 link sausages, bacon, black pudding, fried egg, slice sausage, haggis, fried tomato, tattie scone, hash brown, baked beans, toast)
Cadbury Double Decker
A few bites of fried pizza
A few bites of fried sausage
A few bites of cheesy chips
We did Petting Zoo at the Edinburgh Fringe in August. This was our final night, celebrating with our Scottish animal experts Danni and Steven. Shots, shots, shots, shots, shots everybody! Buckfast is a caffeinated Scottish alcohol. Kandel was afraid to drink it because it would affect his sleep schedule. He’s so cute.
The Full Scottish is different from the Full English because it includes haggis and a tattie scone, which is basically a shitty potato-based pita pocket. Haggis is wonderful though. I am a great fan of offal, and haggis is no exception. I got it on a morning roll with brown sauce for a quick breakfast many times while I was there. It felt like that AOC tweet about the bodega.
You can be sure I left a Cadbury Double Decker in the airport toilet the next day.
2 sunny side up eggs
Four slices of toast
Ice Spice Munchkins drink
Bread and butter
Rigatoni and red sauce
This was my birthday. My brother taught me about a Japanese word — aji — which describes my favorite places in the world. Flavor, uniqueness, seasoning. Restaurants that are a little dusty, run-down, worn-in, cracked vinyl banquettes, cash only, the owner might be your server, she might call you “sweetheart,” there might be a television, it might be playing local news or Joel Osteen. I spent my birthday going to aji-laden places.
Breakfast at Tina’s in Bushwick with my girlfriend. Their meatloaf platter reminds me of being 21, in all its glory and shame.
Guinnesses with my brother at Ear Inn: a very, very old bar by American standards. The building belonged to one of George Washington’s Black aides and used to abut the Hudson before it was landfilled. I can recall a time when I made fun of my dad for knowing shit like that. I’m turning into him.
Dinner at Bamonte’s with my girlfriend. Rotund waiters in tuxedos. Pictures of Joe DiMaggio on the wall. A dress code. Butter in foil, sticky red wine, full-fat Caesar dressing, desserts on a cart, the feeling at the end that you need to be removed from the premises in a wheelbarrow. Heaven.
I also had the disgusting Ice Spice Dunkin’ drink. Yin and yang.
Who’s to say we shouldn’t do this every week? I think that‘d be fun. Radical transparency.
I also tried keeping a food diary. Here’s mine:
Pieces of shit like you
Pieces of shit like you
Pieces of shit like you