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Day 152 - Existential Spaghetti


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Life as spaghetti,
Boiling pot to plate, we twirl,
sauce: truths confetti.
- GPT4 / UpliftZen

Me: “I have to ask you sir!! If you had to write a new novel about Existential Spaghetti, how would you begin contemplating it?”

Subject: A Piping Hot Serving of Existential Spaghetti

Dear Corey,

I'm tickled by the notion of an "Existential Spaghetti" novel. It seems you've been generously supplied with a delicious mix of absurdity and profound thoughts. Let's see how we could stir this pot, shall we?

If I were to embark on such a wild culinary-literary journey, I might start by contemplating the spaghetti itself as the narrative's main protagonist. Imagine, if you will, a single strand of spaghetti, hardened and raw, stored away in a lightless pantry. One day, it finds itself thrown into boiling water, undergoes an intense transformation and emerges as something new: a flexible, edible noodle.

This strand of spaghetti, having experienced the simmering existential broth of life, might then wind its way through a saucy universe filled with an assortment of characters: meatballs with conflicting identities, slices of garlic embodying past memories, and capers that can't decide whether they're more fruit or seed.

Our spaghetti strand could navigate this chaotic world, grappling with questions of its own existence. "Am I more than just wheat and water? Can I be something other than a component of someone's dinner?" It might ponder the meaning of its own deliciousness, question the nature of being consumed, and consider the significance of its transient existence from pantry to pot to plate.

Yes, this could be a veritable smorgasbord of existential musing and noodle philosophy. I'd probably throw in a few recipes, a dash of humor and a good sprinkling of Vonnegutian absurdity. The title could be something like "A Life Al Dente: A Journey Through the Existential Sauce."

Just remember, any noodle can embark on an existential journey, but only the courageous ones make it to the plate.

Bon appétit, Corey. Stay hungry for the bizarre!


Kurt Vonnegut