A Guide to hosting a Dinner Party at the end of the World.
A short story. Or a story about a bread machine. I haven’t yet decided.
Before I begin, I know we’re all wondering where I’ve been:
Sleep
Touching grass
I listened to an audiobook
Life girl…
In all seriousness, there’s a big shift going on in my life so i’m bending with the wind and loving the breeze a little more these days. I’m moving, i’m living, i’m cool. I’m back and i’m writing some stuff.
This is just a small excerpt of a little piece I’ve been scratching out in my mind. A joke and a prayer.
So Why do you care about my guide to hosting a Dinner Party at the end of the World?
Well I’ll get into it and then you can decide whether this is useful at all. You can contemplate the value of a silly little sing-song guide that popped, unceremoniously into your email one night. You can dissect the prose or call your grandmother (by phone or supernatural means) what her apocalypse.was like. What did her “end of the world” feel like?
I’m rambling. Let’s ramble through this guide, huh?
By Sam Christian
The following is contains tips, trick and recipes that one might use for the all important “End of the World” dinner party. Maybe it’s a supper club. I mean, it feels like we’re standing at the precipice of humanity’s demise every Thursday so I’m starting to envision this thing as an ongoing event. We should order patches or something. Maybe commemorative glasses.
The first rule of hosting any dinner party (especially one being conducted at the end of civilization) is BREAD and crying.
This is it! We’ve tried everything! Eat the fucking bread and fall apart. And I mean the nice bread and I mean wail! Loudly and in public spaces with too many tissues. Take long deep breaths in between and let your self bend with every soft breeze. Take too much time to get it together. Or don’t get it together! Have a croissant or sourdough. Wedge the bites somewhere between the welled up eyes and puffy cheeks. Puffy from the crying or puffy from the mouthfuls of bagels. Just weep and eat the bread. And talk with your mouth full. You know, for good measure. Allow yourself this kindness. Ashe
The second rule of hosting any dinner party on it’s way to oblivion is forgive and forget.
Forgive yourself. Forgive your mother. Forgive your Ex. Forgive yourself again just so you know it stuck. Forgive that time your best friend talked you into sneaking out and got your phone taken for a month. You can’t be young wild and free with a Tracfone. Forgive the teacher who refused to get your name right. Though it was easy. We had to learn the importance of the Louisiana purchase, she could Learn how to pronounce “Soleil” (SO-LAY). Forget about the last thing you said to your father. Or that you didn’t say anything. Forgive the bread you ate during the first rule. I know you’re thinking about it. Ashe
The third rule is to “yes, and” on your way into the black abyss. You’ve waited and scrimped and saved your way right to the end. You said “not this time” to sneaking out and quitting your job and stowing away on an international flight to Greece. Just say yes. At this point, there is nothing really holding you back from trying anything. Twice. We’ve cried, and ate bread and forgiven our mom. We’ve made concessions, and space and too much hummus. We’ve come up with every reason to give up. To say No. just say yes and go back to your bread.
I guess the most important thing to impress upon you is that the end of the world is coming. Like those people with the signs. Telling us that something’s ending. Or beginning. Or was it the beginning of the end? Like….an apocalypse…..always bad? What’s the room’s consensus?
- - -
To be continued. Or not , you know I’m trying this thing where I don’t even try to predict my own future. I’m just giving my brain a place to vibe out. There’s not much else to say today! Glad to be back in some capacity. Won’t even say I’ll be around weekly but I’ll be around.
Ashe
This Newsletter is a soft offering by Sam Christian and is done for free. If you have the means, consider joining as a paid subscriber so Sam has the time and space to keep this little corner of the internet truckin’!
timing is always right. These are the rules i needed in exactly the format i needed to present them to a poetry class of teenagers