Nothing Else Matters

It's quite melancholy inducing when you finally connect the dots and realize that your whole existence and all your struggles and joys are ultimately a pointless exercise, a tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury signifying nothing, as a wise man once observed, realization usually comes around middle age, the mid-life crisis I suppose, this realization that none of it matters... really, that no one cares, that there is no guy in the sky that's going to make it all alright, that you can drop dead right now or not and the Universe couldn't give a damn either way.

The Italians are dangerously good at starters. Arguably the best in the world. French starters come one after another, in a wearying procession. Spanish tapas are robust and delicious, but lack flights of fancy. Chinese dim sum are endlessly inventive, but too doughy to be eaten regularly.