Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Day 9: "Why I vowed I would never become a vegan." (prologue to my first Vegan dinner)....




Day 9: Two years ago on my 34th birthday I purloined my mom’s car and drove with my best friend Dave Hale to see our other best friend dapper-as-hell Dave Thompson and his boyfriend of  (shit) 10 years now cool-as-hell Matthew Wilson. Dave Thompson has always been a mentor, an older brother, a cultural savant and just a dear friend. We used to host bacchanalian wine dinners mingling with the P-town noveau riche, the hoity-toity of haute couture. Our lifestyle was a worship of aesthetic decadence. We went out attired in Armani and Ferragamo partying til eight in the morning. We drove around with his top down on his BMW drinking ‘Roady Soadies’. He was a self-confessed formidable ‘Fine-dining fag’.  Our burgundy-coated apartment had a humidor and a wine library and a bar and cool art adorned on the walls. We lived in an apartment in an 1855 mansion on High Street which to me will always be the coolest house in Peoria. We had a turret that looked over downtown, a couch we both had sex on with our respective partners, the pulsing neon-panorama screeching behind us, a marble headed statue of Caligula in the window.  We both had a fetish for single malt scotches. Silos of Balvenie and Laphroaig and Glenlivet and (shit) Oban stowed in oak casks since before I hit puberty aligned the top of our bar like athletes at the outset of a swim competition ready to dive into the shallow end of the kiddie pools of our liver. Most nights we would stay out on the deck smoking cigars listening to Opera. Listening to the dulcet mezzos of Cecelia Bartoli and Joan Sutherland scale the rungs of musical clefs, crescendo in dynamics and crash in applause, the sun, poking stipples of spring light behind the bushy bad 80’s permy limbs of the Burr oak tree with a plaque stating that the tree was present during the Revolutionary era.
 
 
It was crazy times. I arrived back to Peoria after transferring to Illinois State  from Bradley (I transferred, but not my credits, I lost a year). I spent all day in lurking outside the office David Foster Wallace even though he was on sabbatical that semester. I spent all night partying and drinking, my room being the official smoking deck on Manchester sixteen. Since, in my arrogance I felt I was being coerced  into taking classes I already passed I stopped going to class, descended into the catacombs of skyscrapperesque dorm where I crashed, where the computer lab was located and just wrote my ass off, pecking into the eggshell white of the page waiting for a metaphor hatch. A semester later I flunked out of Illinois state with a beer in one hand and a 300 page manuscript in the other. I had no clue what to do with my life. My hair had just grown long.  I moved back to Peoria and moved in with Dave.  He ran a high-scale Italian restaurant a couple of hours away and was only home twice a week. I fed his cat.  I sat out on our deck chain smoking ONYX cigars working on my novel which quickly doubled from 300 pages to 600 (the bulk of which were cut) drinking Amarone at 70 bucks a bottle as if it were tang.
Life was good.
 Two years ago on my birthday when I made my annual drive cross state to visit Dave in Iowa (he moved shortly after my father passed) I was shocked (well maybe not shocked) how he had pulled a 180 and was now, along with his life partner, a devoted Vegan.
Where before we would have gone out and ordered escargot and sirloins, perusing the wine menu while blathering pedantically about verticals and vintages now we shopped at organic co-cops and ate at select places where everything reeked of patchouli. When Dave ordered something his entrée seemed to arrive 15 minutes later and was covered in what looked like green culled from the He-man slime era. He looked good. He had lost 20 pounds and at least ten years. He seemed lighter. He quit smoking. He drank in almost prohibition moderation compared to the daily decadence that was our life   All of a sudden everything was Vegan. Even the dog food. Even the sugar because he claimed regular sugar somehow used cattle-extract to whiten the grains.
Everything was fucking Vegan.
Vegan.
 

                                                                       ***


The first Vegan I knew was named Alexis Pippen and she was, ebullient. She attended IMSA (Illinois Math and Science Academy) has a shock of red hair, wore checkered  skirts and socks that stretched to her knees. She was precocious, read the tarot and had devoured the collective works of Shakespeare by like age six. She went to Med school and is now a successful doctor. I’ll never forget the summer of ’97 when at the last moment the great Pat Mullowney called and said he was trying to hit some fireworks. He picked me up along with Alexis right when the deafening caterwaul of overhead iridescent light scratching chandeliers into the blackboard of the sky and how we walked down the center of main street, Peoria at a pause, everyone’s neck tilted, lost in the blinks of the neon orchestral avalanche exploding above our foreheads.

Later that night we broke into Pat Mullowney’s father’s liquor cabinet, a bottle of Grand Marnier shuffled between us. Alexis and I would kiss on the pool table. Later we would go out to (fuck) panache and Rizzi’s when she would order she made sure that nothing had cheese or meat on the meal.

 When I inquired why she said simply that she was a Vegan.
 
 
 

 I made a point of telling her how much I like meat. How I am a committed carnivore.   How I’m liable to roast a pig while wearing yamaka and whistling out selected chorus numbers from Fiddler on the Roof.  I made a joke that didn’t auger well stating that she couldn’t possibly be a hard-core Vegan if she enjoyed sucking cock. I then back-pedaled, claiming that wasn’t what I meant,  making lame Foghorn Leghorn impressions in front of her bemused  lips.

That was the end of the date. Alexis went on to achieve amazing things in the medical field. I continued  writing. Continued eating meat.

I swore I would never date a Vegan again.

 

                                                                         ***
 
The second vegan I dated was named Hippie-Nikki. We hooked up one night in late 2004 at a house party off of Bradley avenue. We made love under an evergreen tree in the front entrance of Bradley park at three in the morning under the swift banks of the October breeze.. I lost my wallet and a kid found it and phoned me up the next day. She was a philosophy major  and had dreadlocks and was the size of a hemp shop fire hydrant. The inimitable Dr. Greene at Bradley monikered her  Daedalus from the Joycean doppelganger in Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Hippie-Nikki 100 percent blew me off for a year then, out of nowhere showed up and we started hanging out again. I hired her to work for me at the library and everyone made a big deal about her dreadlocks for some reason. She started a cool philosophy club at Bradley. She was Vegan. She seemed bound and determined that I should at least be open minded to a Vegan lifestyle. When I informed her that everything is consciousness, everything has a conscious pulse, that the crazy thing about having a body is that life lives off other life. Hippie-Nikki continued to inside I tried to be open minded. I told her I was open minded. She made a Vegan pizza which looked like someone shot a muppet and then slow cooked it for 45-minutes before basting it with extra virgin olive oil. Gradually I grew impatient. Our dining options were limited at the time to One World (which had a Vegan menu) and home-vegan cooking. She gave me these packages of Tofu which seemed to contain more water than a placenta. Finally she started seeing a philosophy major who also had dreadlocks and whose appetite was more in her ballpark soybean hotdog area code.
I couldn’t be more relieved.
Again, I vowed that I would never do vegan.
                                                                       ***
 

After leaving Dave Thompson’s pad in West Des Moines two years ago Hale and I both fired up a cigar. We had been feasting on nothing but soy nuggets for the past three days and we wanted meat. We were salivating. We wanted veins and grease and gravy. 
Thus we engaged in one of the most disgusting, ass scratching heterosexual-American male made meal we could think of at the time.
We dipped into a suburban plaza and stopped at a White castle, getting a box of fifteen sliders.  We then went across the street and drove through the KFC drive-through ordering four famous bowls (intrinsically popcorn chicken and potatoes) with extra cheese plus a side order of gravy.   We then got a six-pack of beer and a bottle of hot sauce and pulled in at a rest stop off of I-80.
As if with alchemical finesse we then placed the White castle Sliders in with the famous bowl mixed the taupe-colored pottage together dousing it with suicide red drips of hot sauce.
We then indulged.
“You know what Hale,” I said between artery thwarting chomps. “I love Thompson to death and would do anything for him but, honestly, fuck vegans!”
“Yes,” Hale assented before we alighted our beers and took a gratuitous slurp.
Fuck Vegans indeed.

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