A guest Average Food Blog by Mansour Chow
“When I acted like a liar, they called me a liar. When I acted like a rich man, they started the rumour I was rich. When I feigned indifference, they classed me as the indifferent type. But when I inadvertently groaned because I was really in pain, they started the rumour that I was faking suffering. The world is out of joint.”
So incredibly moved by recent books, articles and documentaries highlighting the environmental plight of our world, and the need to drastically change our lifestyles and replace the grossly unfair and corrupt capitalist system in order to save our planet, I’ve taken, over the last few months, to purchasing [mainly] vegan salads every lunch-break….
Hadouken! Take that capitalism!
Quinoa, couscous, falafel, beans, grains, olives, and some other salady shit. I should feel good about eating these salads, but they’re just so fucking uninspiring.
I imagine you weren’t so different from me once upon a time. I imagine (like it used to be for me) that eating lunch is probably one of the few things that you actually enjoy doing during your working day – that and leaving. Well, that used to me before I started eating these salads.
Okay, the editors have asked me to talk about some positives (they haven’t), so what I can I say? I can at least say that they generally keep me full and I’m getting more nutrients than I would have if I had continued my previous eating habits. But at what cost? Is this all there is for me now? Am I reduced to eating lunch forever-after in depressed resignation?
“The weak fear happiness itself. They can harm themselves on cotton wool. Sometimes they are wounded even by happiness.”
I’m awfully unhappy. And the only thing I’m happy about it is how much less guilt I feel for my happiness, you know, given that I don’t have any anymore.
These salads are ruining my life. I’m increasingly viewing my existence and all existence as completely meaningless, which rather negates bothering to eat these salads in the first place, or turning up to work, or boring you with this nonsense, or even bothering with anything.
“Whenever I was asked what I wanted my first impulse was to answer ‘Nothing.’ The thought went through my mind that it didn’t make any difference, that nothing was going to make me happy.”
The entire purpose to my existence has been stolen from me and replaced solely by my need to instruct you about how meaningless life is, and how nihilism is the only looking glass through which we should see the world. And, as I’m sure you’ll understand, this makes my argument self-refuting because I have created meaning to my life in that I see some meaning and importance to telling you how meaningless life is.
This is a very messy concept to deal with and certainly not one which provides me with any comfort. When I think more about my existential-nihilism (or is it nihilistic-existentialism?), it actually makes me feel that life is even more meaningless than I did before (which is weird because I didn’t know it was possible for something to be more meaningless than meaningless), and it only increases my desire to warn you all of this for your own good. I’m in a horrible, spinning mess of self-refutation. I can’t even say for sure that I’m even human anymore, or that I ever was.
This is all from eating those fucking vegan salads from Tesco. But at least I am single-handedly saving the world (not that there’s any point to that).
Overall rating: 7/10
“Everything passes. That is the one and only thing that I have thought resembled a truth in the society of human beings where I have dwelled up to now as in a burning hell. Everything passes.”