Regarding the title of this blog, i.e. “Where is my muse?” (editor’s note: this was the subtitle of the old blog I had at www.blogstudio.com), I can now, officially report having found it. It was not, as I had perhaps expected it to be, located in a park, museum, work of art, literature, or in the depths of someone’s eyes. Rather, I found it in a chinese restaurant.
Yes, it was there, amidst the wonton, eggdrop, rolled spring bounty of general tsao, that my muse awaited me. And you might imagine, much to my amazement! Even so, it was no bolt of lightning, nor thunderclap, nor sudden clarity of thought. Rather, and rather abruptly, I was confronted by my muse when that most-delicate of chinese post-feast cuisine, my fortune cookie was presented to me, along of course with my check and an after-dinner mint. Expecting portents of doom, cute kitchen wisdom, or some chenglish garble, I was, and I admit it, a bit dismayed when my fortune read, simply, “I am your muse.”
I sat, stunned, for several minutes, contemplating the ramifications of this revelation. Should I move to China? Should I have gone to a thai restaurant instead? Who was General Tsao, anyway? Finally, and a bit furtively, I took both what was left of the cookie, and its fortune, and quickly devoured it. I got up, payed my check, ate my mint, and left the building, occassionally glancing over my shoulder for bad signs that I might soon be struck dead, or maimed by ducks.
Half an hour later, I had horrible indigestion. Perhaps ironically, it wasn’t even inspiring indigestion. I guess that may be for the best. So, at least for awhile longer, the title stands, and I’ll try to forget this whole fortune cookie thing ever happened. It’s better that way.