On why I like pie.

I really really like pie. Many of you have no doubt heard me utter my almost ubiquitous "hmmm pie." at the mere mention of the word, or something that sounds like the word, or drunk, whatnot. But there is more to pie than that. For me, pie is a transcendental act. Its enjoyment, its consumption more than just the satisfaction of the craving (a craving is momentary; pie, is anything but for me.) Pie is not just something that fills the void. It is where we find ourselves. It is the act of being in a place of being. That is why the very best place to eat pie is at a diner. and it is always best at night, in the quiet stillness that even the busiest of late nights finds in its passive drone of conversation, clinking, buzzing, laughing, and sighing. The diner is a place that is always there, always open, perpetual in reminding you of itself.

But its consumption is more than that. The same is not true for cake. Cake holds with it indulgence, decadence. Its sugars and starches are all filling. It is to be avoided until weakness overtakes us. Pie has somehow escaped this pigeon hole. It is something altogether else. In it alone we find a place to revel in the moment and reconnect. Sitting at a bar or table, finding it out, seperating, mixing, enjoying, noticing. In it together we find each other. Laughing, consoling, being in relation, sharing, comforting, reassuring.

In the show Dead Like Me one of the characters, Rube, eats quite a bit of pie. He often shares it, or offers it in a time of need. When one of his friends sits down next to him the evening, in clear need of advice, he orders them a slice. Not cake. Not ice cream (unless of course its on pie). Pie carries with it, the whole of human connection. It is care, regard and responsibility for each other. Would anyone care to join me?