Decided to make a stock today after pulling apart the leftover chicken. It's part of a new attempt at less wastage. I've been living off one six-dollar chicken since wednesday night and I reckon I'll get at least half a dozen more meals out of it (in frozen bits of course).
So I've had the stock going for ages and it's all nice and tasty. I strain it and decided to kind of wring out as much as I can from the vegies that were in there. Of course, I have a munch on one of the bits of carrot when I'm done squeezing it out and am fairly surprised to find that it tastes just the same as the stock does. It lost it's carrotness and became part of the hive mind....
I've just finished reading Steven King's Cell - which I found similar in the opening doomsday thing to The Stand - but he goes into telepathy a bit in Cell, where the 'phone-people' actually share a hive mind. I love Steven King. Mostly it's good, fast reading. He does panic really well, and is one of those writers that can have me laughing aloud with his descriptions of things during a crisis.
Anyway, the hive mind. It's where there's no individuality any more. The 'phone-people' in Cell, my stockpot. I see the connection clearly.
No, I'm not still drunk blogging.
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