eating the sun

i taught adam how to use the sewing machine. he wanted to fix some of his tattered blue jeans. i showed him how to use the bobbin winder and how to thread the thread through its path across and through the machine to the needle. for the last couple of days, he's been working steadily at repairing his frayed hems and ripped belt loops. after successfully fixing two pairs this morning, he announced "I'm a sewing MACHINE!" i called him The Seamster and he said, "i know, maybe i should forget about welding."

this is the second day of my juice fast. i made a breakfast of pineapple, apples, and peaches and finished it in about ten seconds. cleaning the juicer took considerably more time. fasting always leaves me with a kind of altered and underwater feeling, a feeling like a school of glinty fish or a pack of underwater iceskaters. fasting, in and of itself a lonely endeavor, makes me feel inhabited by fast plurals, while the exterior world takes on a slow warm quality. even time seems to creep.
there's a line in an anna swir poem i always remember when i'm fasting:

"three days i starve my belly so that it learns to eat the sun."

i too have to train my belly to adjust to other tastes, though i do admit one of the most comforting things to do on a fast is read a good cookbook.