SOUL FOOD TO GO : Guest Blogger: Matthew Lang

 Today we have a guest blog from Aussie writer Matthew Lang. I was very excited about the fact he's from Australia until I realized he doesn't "Crikey", not even once. Now I'm just excited. I jest. I think this blog is awesome, informative and lets us in on some of Matthew's inner workings. His frank discussion about how people communicate through food in his life is touching and hits close to home. My Nana couldn't have a meaningful conversation with anyone unless she was feeding them at the same time. Plus you can't go wrong if someone else is doing the work for you, am I right? I'm right. I know I am because this gives me an excuse not to post for another few days! - Real Life Dean

Soul Food to Go.

(this is supposed to be an embedded video. It refuses to embed. 

Enjoy the link instead. In another tab)

YouTube Video Link 

Hi, this is Matthew Lang, and I’m hijacking Dean’s blog for a bit. I’m not entirely certain what I’m talking about but I’ve given myself the topic of food because...well, I like food. I’ve been accused of liking it a bit too much actually. I really need to like exercise as much as I like food, but as has been recently pointed out, you can out eat just about any exercise regimen, so loving food and eating it responsibly is supposedly the main issue people have to tackle when it comes to staying svelt.

You’ll notice that post is from News.com.au, which is one of Rupert Murdoch’s websites, so I recommend reading it with a hyperbole filter—which I call a bullshit filter. Basically, ignore the headline, read the actual article and take the news out of the sensationalism. Or just go read something less tabloidy. You’ll also have noticed that it’s an Australian website, and that’s because, well, I’m an Aussie. Maybe you guessed that already from my spelling. 

We’re a strange lot, us Aussies. We take pride in our ability to guzzle down beer, and the average BBQ will have more snags (that’s sausages) of questionable meat product than anything else. On the other hand, we’ve started filling our sausage skins with the flavours of San Choi Bao. Our television screens are filled with more celebrity chefs, and reality cooking shows than nearly anything else. I live in a food obsessed nation. Or maybe I’m just making excuses for my own obsessions. And still trying to find a reason why I’m writing about what I’m writing about.

I used to complain—I guess I still do—that my family only communicates over food. I think it’s a Chinese thing. It’s funny when cultures blur. Australia is a young country—one of the youngest. I don’t know if we’ve managed to overcome colonial attitudes because we don’t have as long a history of it to fight against—although certainly no less painful for those affected by it—or because we haven’t had the length of time to create an entrenched cultural inertia, which allows us to cherry pick the best of all the others that come to our shores. In essence, Australia could well be the national equivalent of the baglady who doesn’t throw away anything useful. And if the current state of discourse on Marriage Equality or Climate Change here is any indication, we probably don’t throw out things until they’re at least several years parts their expiry date either, but then, no place is perfect. Anyway, returning to the first point. People communicate in very different ways. Some people use words. Some people use touch. Some people use food.

Words can nourish. Touch can nourish. Food can nourish. And somewhere in there I’m trying to make a point about words and touch being food, and it’s really not clear. This is what happens when I ramble, seriously, there’s a reason authors need editors. I am an author who loves words. I am a man who loves touch, and I certainly feel that in western culture we are starved of touch—so more hugs people—and I love my food. I write to touch people. I write so that people can find a connection with something. I want people to know they aren’t alone. That the stories that they feel they can never have are ones that I thought I could never have. Of course, part of me also hopes that eventually I can live one of them as well as writing many more, but that would be a bonus fillip. Of course, that’s a whole heap of pretentious twaddle, but at the end of the day, our ambitions are always bigger than our achievements. All I can say is I hope to nourish, I hope to share and I hope that I can reach you with my work. And whether I do, or whether I don’t, share something of you. If you’re a writer—share a story, whether it’s true or it’s fiction. Let someone else know that they’re not alone and that their dreams are as real and valid as anyone else’s. Let them know that what they’re feeling is normal, and shared by countless others. If you’re any good in the kitchen, share some food with someone you are about. Or head out and meet someone for lunch or dinner who you haven’t seen in a while. Or hug someone. Take time today to say thank you to someone you should thank but haven’t yet because it’s been too long, or because it’s never the right time, or because it’s for something so small that it feels silly to thank them for it.

It’s not silly, it’s not too small. You’re not alone, and if you’re going to be a hifaluting big pretentious dreamer go for it. And hope you manage to get somewhere—anywhere—close to where you’re aiming, and if you don’t, take another shot. You’re only defeated if you give up—and if you think it’s too hard, or that you can’t do it, read this. This is me giving you a virtual hug, because every scared boy or girl needs to know that it’s not just you. You’re not alone. And sometimes you just need a bit of nourishment.

Matthew has a number of stories to share, but his most recent, The Way You Are, follows college student Leon as he struggles with life, boys and regional Australia. It is available now from Dreamspinner Press.

Matthew himself is a twenty something Australian from Melbourne. Author, home cook and sometime amateur theatre performer, Over the years he has dabbled in marketing, advertising, event management and the sale of light fittings, but his first love is and has always been that of the written word and is rarely too far from a good book. He likes his men hot and spunky, his mysteries fantastical, his fantasies real and his vampires to combust when exposed to sunlight. Other than that he’s pretty normal. One day we may even take him out of the straight jacket.

 You can find Matthew Long at the following Internet Locations near you:  www.matthew-lang.com/    Facebook       and everyone's favorite: Twitter

So what we have learned here is that Matthew is awesome. He cooks, which is great considering I can't and now I'm hungry. Yes, I am still banned from the stove. Actually I recently got RE-BANNED. There was no fire involved, but I did ruin a pot. And that Food as Conversation is not just an American thing, or a British thing (in the case of my family) or even an Australian thing...it's a human thing. Hope you guys enjoyed and make sure to go check out Matthew's work, it's worth your time, Promise! - Real Life Dean

The Smallville Slasher

I often go down a local book store called Hastings  to write during the week. If you don't have a Hastings in your area, I am sorry. You're missing out. They are a wonderful little place that sells books, musics and movies. They also have little cafes in them, that serves your basic coffee stand sort of fair at a reasonable price. They provide free WiFi and you can sit at a chair for hours on end with headphones in and no one will bother you. My local Hastings happens to be familiar with Sullivan (the service dog) and I, and are always happy to see us and considerate of giving us plenty of space while I work.

But one of my favorite things about Hastings is the people watching. Like any other coffee store a variety of people filter through the cafe. And more. Because the rest of the store attracts all kinds you get the opportunity to watch some interesting people. And like most writers I find people watching entertaining, inspirational and highly distracting. And the best case of people watching is that of the Smallville Slasher.

During the summer I would escape the heat at Hastings to work on various writing projects. And continually I kept seeing the same kid. He was the sort of interesting looking that isn't unattractive but is just unusual. He had pale skin with obvious freckles and curly bushy hair that wasn't quite red, but wasn't committed to being brown either. He usually wore sweat pants, or baggy shorts. A pair of grungy sneakers and socks that were the same color but weren't quite exactly the same. And almost always a tee shirt relating to some comic book super hero, in particular he seemed fond of Superman. The first time I saw him he had a Netbook with him and would type furiously into it for short bursts then stop and appear to re-read what he had just written. He also had a stack of Smallville DVDs for rent sitting next to him.

My conclusion was obvious: clearly he was writing Smallville Fanfiction. And because it was me making the assumptions, I figured it was probably Slash fanfiction. I was hooked.

Now most writers of this generation have cut their teeth one way or another on fanfiction. And most of us, especially those of us who write gay romance, can admit that we've probably read (or written) a few slash pieces featuring our favorite male leads from books, movies or television. Hell, I've written some (and if you ask nicely I might share it with you.)

I quickly became sort of obsessed with this man sitting near me at the cafe. He was younger than me, and while I thought of him as a kid, he was clearly in his early 20's. He was so fixated on what he was doing that he never seemed to notice the interest I took in him. I began writing on my (personal) Facebook page about him, telling any one who would listen about what he was doing, and my theories about the stories he was writing.

My fixation on him only grew when I kept running into him. I had no idea if he ever noticed the way I would write about what he was doing, but he didn't seem to mind. He would furiously type away, always in short bursts. Than he would stop, sip from his drink or glance through a magazine about Smallville. I began thinking up covert ways to get his picture to share with other people, who were beginning to become intrigued by him as I was. 

The 1st photo I ever got of him. The cellphone
acrobatics I had to do to get this would make
a Russian Ballerina jealous.

So last summer and early fall it was a game for me to see if I could spot him. And as an added bonus it continued to encourage me to go to the cafe to work, though admittedly I got very little work done. I was too busy updating every one of my Facebook friends about what he was doing, and trying to figure out how to sneak a picture of him.

My game became even more exciting when I started spotting him on the street. I reverted to my childhood self, always looking out for slug bugs, only now I was hyper-vigilant trying to spot the Smallville Slasher. I would try my best to get a picture of him from my cellphone every time I saw him, while also trying not to run some unsuspecting Prius off the road.

No Priuses (Priusi? Priusee?) were harmed in
the taking of this photo.

I realized today that the cold weather has driven me indoors, and my trips to the cafe are not nearly so frequent or exciting since I have not spotted the Smallville Slasher anywhere. I like to think he is back in college, and that his commitment to walking around town stored for warmer weather. And hopefully come the warmth of spring and summer I will see him again, walking down the street with purpose and a grocery bag in one hand, or a backpack over his shoulder. Or I will see him at the cafe working on his next great work of Smallville Slash Fanfiction. One can only hope.

I think it's in the nature of writers to gravitate towards writing the stories of the intriguing people around them. I see strange people on the street and I wonder about their life story. I find myself deciding a course of events that lead them to be where they are at that moment. And like the Smallville Slasher, I tend to give them names. Usually something that relates to what I see them doing; for example: the tall skinny guy who is always holding a mattress store sign on the corner of a major intersection that I see routinely as I drive by has been dubbed Tall Scrawny Sign Dude. I feel fairly certain I am not the only person on the planet who does this. And while I have been challenged about my psuedo-stalking of the Smallville Slasher, I suggest all is fair. And nothing is stopping him from doing the same to me. I wonder what he calls me?

This is here just to demonstrate that weird
people are often on the side of the road
in Boise. Nemo here was promoting
the Idaho Aquarium.
"What, and give up show business?"