My Soup, It Bounced

Ext: Corner of College and Oak, winter, clear skies
Int: Bustling bagel shop, CTB.

After paying at the register, I took my soup and stood by the counter waiting for my Mexian bagel to arrive. The Mexican bagel consists of a bagel, topped with jalepeno cream cheese, fresh salsa, and melted Cheddar. The whole sandwhich is then melted. It's good. This isn't about the Mexican bagel though, it's about my garden vegetable soup. I'm positioned near the counter in CTB where the finished bagel sandwhiches are doled out. It's important to note that Ithaca is a small town but when the whole town is packed into one medium sized room, it gets crowded. Standing near the pickup counter in CTB is like standing next to one of those trucks you see in war torn nations that ally forces are perched on handing out shoes and fresh water. Granted, I've never been to a war torn nation and experienced this but i've seen pictures. My soup is in my left hand, my weak hand, stupid Avi. I'm fending off people, getting bounced around, pushed to my side, stepped on, et cetera. When suddenly, a girl walks by and brushes my left hand and the soup that's in it. Time stops. My soups life flashes before its eyes.

Cut to: Soups point of view
Int: swishing vegtables in a liquidy broth

Ahh, those days in the garden with the sun beaming down, fresh water, plenty of nutrients. That life is no more. I have spent the last week in a box and just yesterday I was chopped, minced, boiled, seasoned and simmered...i'm barely a shadow of what I once was. Once I hit the ground, that's it. Not only was I killed, but i was killed in vain. I was killed just to be splattered on someones torn up tennis shoes. I can't even have the satisfaction of scolding someones mouth.

Cut to: Avi's point of view
Time stops for me as well. As the soup dangles in the air I don't make a move towards it. Trying to catch boiling soup was not on my agenda for the day. The only thing running through my mind is "I hope they replace my soup for free." I repeat it almost like a mantra. The soup lands hitting a booted foot that doesn't even notice the impact. I invision an explosion of pathetic proportions. I'm let down. Nothing happens. My soup, it bounced.

Me?

Sometimes, when I eat corn and then shit it out, perfectly preserved. I feel like a mule for corn farmers. This thought was inspired by the movie "Maria Full of Blow." It's a sad, tender movie about the exploitation, hopelessness, and hope of poor Columbians.

Full Of Ice

My freezer is literally frozen. Completely full of ice. There's just about enough room to keep my tomales.

It's A Stadium

Why I Believe In Intelligent Design

I Don't.

Avi on Child Labor, Uncomfortable Positions, and Handmade Pottery

Today is Sunday. I woke up at 9:45...tired, awake, warm, wanting to urinate. Usually on sundays, I wake up feeling unproductive and helpless. Lying in bed, maybe staring at a crack on the ceiling or on my side wondering who invented pho wood panneling made from wood. I am incapacitated. Realizing everything I didn't complete last week, wasn't completed, and most likely won't be...maybe ever. I just add it to that list that I don't keep of everything left unfinished. Then I turn on the radio, hoping i'm up in time to catch the third half of Car Talk or Wait Wait Don't Tell Me. My apathy and frustration with myself quickly subsides. I am up. Ready to shower, brush my teath, do anything life might send my way...that is if it includes showering or brushing my teeth. I swallow my blood pressure meds with a quick shake of my head, ready to conquer (if you have the CD Deadly Sting by Scorpions play "Wind of Change" now) small conquerable things like my hunger. Today, luckily my parents are coming to town. They shall take me out to lunch/brunch and we shall feast on lunch/brunch type foods. I tidy up my apartment, flat they call it, pushing clothing and bags and news papers closer to the walls. Picking up books and putting them on my desk or chair. I rinse out one or two dishes in the sink and make sure there isn't more than one ring lining my toilet. OK, now if I die, people will see my apartment and think to themselves...yeah, Avi, he was pretty put together, nothing cluttering the floor, his toilet is clean but for one lone ring...dishes mostly clean. I live always prepared to die, not emotionally but my tangibles are all in place: Lev - all my leather goods, most of my clothing, and IPOD, Parents - car, pictures, Friends - whatever is left over. I won't die today though. I don't think. I cleaned up my apartment for myself. My parents don't usually come up to my flat. Too many stairs, too many icy stairs, nothing to do once they get here. I meet them at their car which is idiling at the sidewalk. "Where do you want to eat Avi," Barbara says. "How about Maxies Supper Club," she says again not even giving me time to think or respond, fine with me. This is quite possibly the fastest restaurant decision our family has ever made. Today is going to be a good day. Maxies serves American food with a slightly southern, New Orleans tint. The meal is good. They don't have my first choice, a fritada minus the bacon. So I order the Cajun omlete. This still includes andouille sausage. Why did I bother switching in the first place? I start the meal with a cup of gumbo, more sausage. As long as i'm going to eat pig I might as well eat pig. My father, quite possibly the most tedious restaurant orderer ever, makes his drink order as confusing and garbled as possible, making sure he won't get what he wants. Hot chocolate, tea, and decafe please...and sparkling water too. Do you have any juice?...wait, does that juice have pulp? Forget the juice. What teas do you have? Do those have bergamot...do you have supermarket tea? Forget the tea. As the waitor pours water for the table, Marvin exclames he doesn't want any water...confusing the waitor into thinking the whole table doesn't want water. I want water though. Meals are satisfactory, people are happy, Marvin finally obtains all of his drinks and all side orders he has requested. Converstation stears to my parents and brothers recent trip to Florida. My parents bought a place to live when retirment comes along. I am shown pictuers of Marvin and Barb standing in front of their plot, no house yet built. Looking happy, presumably. It's an odd picture. My father has an expression as if he just layed claim to a piece of land in the old west. Except he can't ride a horse, I don't know how he got there but he's there, in front of his piece of land. I update them on my recent trip to Egypt. It was fun. Saw the pyramids. Did you know they eat pigeon? Alexandria has great sea food, it being on the sea and all. Good pita. You should go. Check please. We drive from Maxies to Mickenzy Child so my mom can buy a house warming gift for some frineds who just moved. The ride is nice, excpet I have to pee. Finally, we arrive. For those of you who don't know what Mickenzy Child is, picture all the useless stuff in the world piled into one room, or maybe two. They have enough fake plastic food to feed the entire nation of Togo atop rediculous looking place settings and plates that look like they were desiged by the Cat in the Hat. Odd pieces of unusable furniture are sprinkled about, ottomans, hassoks, chaise lounges minus the lounge. My mom got a nice platter. The ride home was uneventfull to keep in tone with the rest of the day. I was dropped off at my flat curbside. I was given a kiss on each cheak as I leaned into the front seat. "Bye." I think I spent the rest of the day deciding what to have for dinner and listening to episodes of This American Life. I opened up my book, "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" for four or so pages before falling asleep, only awakened by my vibrating phone and my brother on the other end. "Can't talk long Avi, I'm getting on a train to the warf for a price fixe chinese dinner with Tony Cho." I had Laotion food.

Chilld Labor: mixed
Uncomfortable Positions: against
Handmade Pottery: no preferance