The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 4, Issue 10 (February 1, 1930)
The Sub-Conscious and the Grub-Conscious
The Sub-Conscious and the Grub-Conscious.
What, dear reader, is your first thought when, at dewy morn, you unreef your eye-covers and merge from the celestial reaches of the subconscious to the terrestrial sphere of the grub-conscious? Do you muse on the musicality of the double crochet, or brood on the sublime simplicity of the mating moth-ball? Does your soul echo the muted murmurs of the nesting nutmeg, or the resonant rustling or the matutinal milk-token? Does your being respond to the beacon of the milky way, or does it cry out for the bacon, toast and “tay”? Truth, dear reader, compels us to affirm the latter. Let poets dote on “the fullness of time” and the “empty spaces,” but to us of grosser grain, empty spaces have no physiological fascination—we prefer the fullness of meal time to the fullness of real time.
Truly, every man is a mirrored image of his menu. The menu makes or breaks the man, and the man is the manifestation of his menu's mastery; in fact the menu means you.
We are warned that man cannot live by bread alone, and, in the same breath, that man cannot have his cake and eat it too. Such contradictory contentions have coerced some conscientious deflectors to eschew chewing solids and go into permanent liquidation.