Dimly Lit Meals for One:
The Attic

Fuck it

“Fuck it, fuck it all.”

It was frustrating, pulling out a dirty dish full of alphabet potatoes and chicken kievs only to find they were still frozen, the oven having never switched on.

Jermaine hadn’t been able to face real cooking for weeks. He had been too busy using Spotify to make playlists for imaginary women. Staying up into the early hours, unable to sleep due to sense that he was doing something extremely important Jermaine pictured their unbridled enthusiasm for a handpicked selection of eight Dire Straits songs and a Mark Knopfler solo song that sounded exactly like Dire Straits.

It felt safer and happier than falling for a real person only to discover they did not share his fondness for Dire Straits.

Early morning came and he would appear at work, a ghost in a white shirt and pale blue tie. If anyone noticed the slight decline in Jermaine’s productivity they were too distracted by the strong odour of yeast he’d started to exude of late, a smell which kept him pretty much on his own between the hours of nine to five thirty.

Once home the spiced rum must flow, and so it did— down the throat of a man who would later baffle doctors unable to comprehend how a human being lived as long as they did without any fruit or vegetables in their diet other than ketchup.

This routine of excessive drinking and poor playlist curation would carry on for some time.

Until the day the message ‘Check the attic’ was discovered in Jermaine’s dirty dish by an opportunistic housebreaker attracted by the scent of warm fat and the faint sound of Dire Straits.

This story is part of the sad but beautiful relationship between Contemporary Food Lab and Dimly Lit Meals For One. We are happy to feature this ongoing series on the CFL Journal written by DLMFO writer, editor & producer Tom Kennedy.

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