Friday I finished a whole book about want, Caron McCuller's The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. I thought it was going to be about the capital S South, and it was, sort of, but it was really about the state, the trap, of wanting.
See, it's tricky. There's an inherent hollowness to want, a kickback of unfulfillment. If you want something easy, something you can identify and something that's within your reach, you get it. I want to go for a walk. Why, there's the door!
But in order truly to want, to writhe in a sate of unsatisfied longing like McCullers' sad sacks, there has to be a catch. You can't quite tell what you want, perhaps. Or you're mistaken about it. Or there's something preventing you from getting it. All those very tawdry, very human drivers of narratives sweeping and small, printed and real.
The appeased wants, the dull, compact satisfactions, seldom make it into print. Here's one for you anyway.
- Large sweet potato, microwaved, mashed.
- Bulgarian feta, crumbled
- Red pepper flakes