Just Offal

Note. The following entry is morose and self-pitying. I also wrote it when it had been raining for 10 day straight.

I hate Easter. It has nothing really to do with the supposed ressurection of Christ, although that kind of marked the beginning of the end for us Jews. I am just glad that the Christians don't physically harm us for killing their Lord any longer, as they used to. Progress! I content myself with the fact that Easter is named after a Western European pagan fertility festival. It would be like the Jews calling Passover "Spring Break" or "Frosh Week", or the Muslims calling Ramadan a crash diet. You get the idea. No, I hate this season because of a particular piece of music that never fails to put me in a funk. It is the Allegri Miserere. You have probably heard about it.. you know, the piece that was forbidden to be heard outside of St Peter's Basilica until the 14 year old Mozart copied it from memory after one hearing. It is traditionally sung at the Easter vigil before Good Friday. Therefore, it is associated with suffering. This is why it was featured in the movie version of E.M. Forrester's Maurice, which gives new meaning to the word "tortured". Consider it a Brokeback Mountain for the tweed-and-high-tea set. I remember watching this movie with my mother in grade 10, when she was developing material for the first ever Gay and Lesbian Literature course at the University of Winnipeg. I of course was not out (although I cannot imagine a more supportive environment... I mean, my mom encouraged me to grow a ponytail and take ballet. In response, I painted my room grey and started dressing like Perry Como) . I watched this movie in petrified silence, hoping to God that my face would not betray any sign of what I was really feeling... Of course, I went out immediately and bought this said piece of music... "Miserere meus domine.... Lord have mercy on me". Grade 10 was a particularly horrible year. I decided to join a show choir because I thought I was in love with a boy. I endured week after week of horrible rehearsals for things like "Disney dazzle" . The only thing that saved me was the Miserere. I would sit in my room and listen to it and read the Larousse Gastronomique...the Bible of French cooking.
One day I came across the entry for "heart":

Heart (coeur): A type of red offal from various animals, which must be bright red and firm when bought. Remove the hard fibres and any clots of blood, if necessary by soaking it in cold water. Heart is devoid of fatand inexpensive. It is considered to be an excellent dish despite its lack of gastronomic repute.

I was comforted, I was saved. The heart, after all, is not something that feels. It is something that is to be eaten. A heart is tough and must become bloodless. It is cheap and must be consumed. Yet, it is considered good. Remember that the mother in Oranges are not the only Fruit mistook a gastric ulcer for feelings of affection.

The heart is just offal.