Back in New Hampshire, when I had a bad case of writer's block, I'd go to the icky convenience store across the street and buy what I called the Lunch of Self-Loathing: a small can of ravioli and a small can of peas. The Lunch must be eaten cold, straight from the cans. I don't know why, but it usually made me feel better. Maybe it harmonized my physical and emotional states.
I recently re-created the Lunch after a visit to a fancy expat grocery store. Here, it's something of a splurge; the canned spaghetti alone cost three times what I would normally pay for a warung lunch. I skipped the peas. I wasn't really feeling bad about work, either; it was just kind of a trip down memory lane. Can a person feel nostalgic for self-loathing?