Food Is Not My Strong Point
Food is not my strong point. There is nothing more depressing than trailing round supermarkets, filling the basket with meals for one.
I hate cooking. Maybe that’s because, most of the time, I detest eating.
But one cannot live on vodka alone. I have also found that the more I eat, the more I can drink. Before I hit the town, it’s essential that I eat something – so, it’s a quick trip to the convenience store or the all-night garage for one box of fish fingers, sliced white bread and, of course, tomato sauce.
Throw four fish fingers under the grill. While I’m waiting for them to go golden brown, with the little black singed bits, I like to knock back a pint of Nesquik, preferably strawberry flavor. Excellent for lining the stomach.
Butter the bread, then give it a thin layer of tomato sauce. Remove the fish fingers from the grill and mash them into the bread. There you have it: the classic fish-finger sandwich. It should be washed down with vodka and a can of Red Bull.
The classic fish-finger sandwich has a number of advantages:
(a) Easy to eat in the bath
(b) Full of vitamins
( c) Keeps you going for hours
(d) … and there’s plenty left in the packet for that drunken late-night snack.
An excerpt from Strangeland by Tracey Emin. About as real as it gets – no filter, no excuses, just the truth and the reasoning. A heavy read at times, yes, but then I guess you have to ask yourself why do you find the truth so heavy?
Monday’s Muse is English artist Tracey Emin. Queen of neon and talking about sex. Thank god for her honesty and willingness to share.
Image above: Tracey Emin’s “Outside Myself (Monument Valley),” 1994