An Audience of One

Every cook knows what every artist knows of every actor who abides by the writer’s creed. The only person who matters is the one who doesn’t get it. Conversely, everyone who gets it gets it one person at a time. Whatever its effect on the crowd, meaningful art strikes at one person, is inspired by an individual, and that person usually has a name. So what’s your name? Did you see the Olympic ceremonies in Beijing? I did. I thought of you.

You are my heart’s desire and you know it, you fuck. I long to be with you but hate it just the same. At least it seems so, whenever we’re together. But it’s not true. I adore you. I have loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I want to shout it to the world. And when I think of all the people who might hear me, I want each one of them to know that I have a very strange way of showing it.

Want a sandwich? Let me make you something to eat. Nothing makes me happier. I'll put it on the grill. No butter or mayo, I promise. Just some ham and cheese, a little olive oil outside to make it crispy. Or do you want veggies? If you didn’t eat breakfast, you should. Can I make you something with an egg? I can wrap it up, if you want.