I can’t take it, People.
Just saying. I can, obviously. Man, it’s tough though.
I never feel well. Physically. I get tested for Covid like every other week. Even though I am painfully cautious, I still go out into the world. I am starting to realize a couple of things. I may have allergies that come and go that I didn’t have before. Stress, fear and anxiety cause real life physical symptoms. I mean, I knew that. It’s just now we are all in the same shit. It’s not just my head.
There is plenty to be stressed about, anxious about and terrified of. We are actually scared for our lives in so many ways. So if you are experiencing fatigue, increased heart rate, rapid breathing, sweating, trembling, weakness, trouble concentrating, trouble sleeping, gastrointestinal issues, panic, dizziness, aches and pains, grinding of your jaw, headaches, loss of appetite, increase of appetite and/or muscle tension it might just be an unconscious response to life and what is happening in the world right now. The only people that aren’t experiencing some of these are probably the people that want to kill us or like seeing us freaked out. They are yet another reason for us to be stressed and anxious. Around and around we go.
I mean, you could be sick with some of these symptoms but you may just be filled with fear. I’m no doctor.
I’m coming off a sugar and carb bender that ended in exciting shame. As you know my friend Patton had some ice cream sent over last week. That took a few days to get through and left me jonseing for the sweet stuff. It put that sugar monkey right up on my back. Twisted my brain. I got obsessed with making a Kentucky Butter Cake that I saw on the NYT Cooking Instagram. So, I got all the stuff to make it. All I wanted was for it to come out perfect so I could eat one slice and then get rid of the cake or battle with it for a few days until I hated myself and threw whatever was left away. It escalated quickly.
I made the cake batter and poured it into a bundt pan. It was an egg and butter and sugar and buttermilk and flour situation. The idea was to create a spongy cake that I would take out of the oven and then pour butter and sugar syrup over it after I poked holes in the cake so it would just be saturated with this syrup. I didn’t put the right amount of water in the pot. The syrup was too thick and it just sat on top of what was going to be the bottom of the cake and began to harden. I was furious. It wasn’t perfect. I was supposed to let it sit for three hours.
After about an hour and half I tried to get the cake out of the pan and slammed it too hard on a plate, breaking the plate. I got another plate and tried shaking the cake out again. Half came out in chunks. So, it was just chunks of cake with clumping sugar glaze on them. I angrily threw what was left in the garbage. Then I furiously shoved the broken chunks of cake in my mouth. IT WAS SO GOOD.
Point being, I was mad about fucking up the cake. I inhaled a bunch of it. I was giddy with sugar. That lasted a half-hour until I was furious at myself for all that I ate.
Silver lining: There is no more cake.
Today I talk to the very smart and funny Hari Kondabolu. We go back a bit. He was an angry young upstart and I was an angry old veteran when I met him. On Thursday I talk to comedian Melinda Hill. I’ve known her for a long time. Glad we got to set down IN PERSON and do the thing. Good talks.
Enjoy!
Boomer, Monkey and LaFonda live!
Love,
Maron