I was just going to post this drawing today of a man playing backgammon on the subway instead of writing. I have some kind of stomach flu or food poisoning. Then, I decided to make a confession, hopefully to appease the goddess of ramen.
I went to a comedy show Friday night at the Creek in Long Island City, and then got two slices of pizza. I was eating and walking to the subway when I passed a tiny ramen restaurant. It was just one big table surrounded by big windows, and everyone was adorable.
It was irresistible. Like an obnoxious weirdo, I stopped in the window for a few seconds, eating a slice, looking around like I’d grown up in an alleyway without adorable restaurants. Then, I scurried away into the night.
I spent Saturday so completely sick, I was afraid I was getting dehydrated, and ventured out to find an urgent care. Sunday, I fed my achy belly dry Cheerios. Monday, I’m finally sipping coffee.
I’m sorry Uke Mochi. I meant no disrespect.
Uke Mochi to me: “Bitch, don’t you wish you had had some nutritious, artisanal ramen without any random bacteria in it instead of whatever it was you were eating in my window?”
“Uke Mochi (Japanese: 保食神, Ukemochi-no-kami; English: “Goddess Who Protects Food”) is a goddess of food in the Shinto religion of Japan. When Uke Mochi was visited by Tsukuyomi she prepared a feast by facing the ocean and spitting out a fish, then she faced the forest and bountiful game spewed out of her mouth, finally turning to a rice paddy she coughed up a bowl of rice. Tsukuyomi was so disgusted he killed her. Even her dead body produced food: millet, rice, and beans sprang forth. Her eyebrows even became silkworms.”
This sounds exactly like what was coming out of my mouth.