Only one more week to go now on my vegan experiment, and it looks like I'll make it quite easily. I did have a cup of coffee with real milk in it yesterday by accident, and Robbie lured me into temptation with one of her home-made biscuits with butter in it a few days ago, but otherwise I have been pure.
I haven't got much new to tell you this week - veganism is OK but it's not exactly a rollercoaster of excitement. If I had time to spend inventing fancy recipes I'd be sharing them with you, but it's been mainly stews and roast vegetables. A curry is always the highlight. So instead, today I'm going to share a poem with you. This is the first part of a long poem by my friend Dominic Berry, Manchester's foremost gay vegan performance poet. I've seen him perform it when he was guest at Poems, Prose and Pints in Harrogate a couple of years ago, and it is terrific! I've cut it before he gets on to the bit about peeling his banana, but I'm sure you'll get the idea...
I'm Coming Out as Vegan!
Maybe not today.
I'm afraid.
Don't single me out from the pack.
Anything but that!
I'd love to be an ace, king, Jack the lad,
rugged and mean.
But no
I know
I am a celery munching queen.
Sappy, soppy fruit.
Not a real butch man.
Can't change the hand I've been dealt.
It's limp.
Like water cress.
I confess I ravish radishes,
crave brussel sprout,
but I am a closet vegan
and I'm not coming out.
I've tried to be like those beef stocky guys raised on pork pies,
strutting to the beat of a deep battered drum stick.
Cocksure. Strident. Keep brains in their meat and two veg.
Big men. Big macs.
Sized super muscle flexing troopers.
I pretend I am like them.
Struggling home with shopping bags,
I've tried to hide my veggie mince.
Tried to look rough. Jerky tough.
Steak acting. Steak looking.
Tell me I am normal, I will sacrifice any lamb,
just tell me I am one of the gang
and not a gooseberry.
Anything but that.
So, my queer desires are kept under
lettuce wraps.
I haven't got much new to tell you this week - veganism is OK but it's not exactly a rollercoaster of excitement. If I had time to spend inventing fancy recipes I'd be sharing them with you, but it's been mainly stews and roast vegetables. A curry is always the highlight. So instead, today I'm going to share a poem with you. This is the first part of a long poem by my friend Dominic Berry, Manchester's foremost gay vegan performance poet. I've seen him perform it when he was guest at Poems, Prose and Pints in Harrogate a couple of years ago, and it is terrific! I've cut it before he gets on to the bit about peeling his banana, but I'm sure you'll get the idea...
I'm Coming Out as Vegan!
Maybe not today.
I'm afraid.
Don't single me out from the pack.
Anything but that!
I'd love to be an ace, king, Jack the lad,
rugged and mean.
But no
I know
I am a celery munching queen.
Sappy, soppy fruit.
Not a real butch man.
Can't change the hand I've been dealt.
It's limp.
Like water cress.
I confess I ravish radishes,
crave brussel sprout,
but I am a closet vegan
and I'm not coming out.
I've tried to be like those beef stocky guys raised on pork pies,
strutting to the beat of a deep battered drum stick.
Cocksure. Strident. Keep brains in their meat and two veg.
Big men. Big macs.
Sized super muscle flexing troopers.
I pretend I am like them.
Struggling home with shopping bags,
I've tried to hide my veggie mince.
Tried to look rough. Jerky tough.
Steak acting. Steak looking.
Tell me I am normal, I will sacrifice any lamb,
just tell me I am one of the gang
and not a gooseberry.
Anything but that.
So, my queer desires are kept under
lettuce wraps.