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Posts Tagged ‘chicken’

There was a metro preacher the other day who said, “People say that you can’t cure cancer.  Cancer is a tiny virus,” he said.  “So tiny.  To God, cancer is the size of an ant.”  Considering a virus is monumentally smaller than an ant, God, in this man’s eyes, must be an itty bitty little guy.

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My mom and I broke a wish bone together this morning and I lost.  I started crying.

“Don’t worry,” she said.  “I wished for your wish to come true.”

“My wish was only to win,” I said.

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The other day, I got a fortune cookie that said, “You will stop procrastinating, starting tomorrow.”

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A friend once told me that he preferred the moon, because compared with the sun, the moon was far more noble.  He asked me if I agreed.

I told him that maybe, but I’d rather just get rich and buy distant relatives fine china for wedding presents, that I saw a set of Waterford crystal wise men that my second cousin would just die for.  All three of them, I said.

He told me about wars and genocide and the environment and shouldn’t I spend my money on that.  This was after I just ordered hot water at the café down the street from the market where, every week, I buy a whole organic local chicken for my dog.  My friend sipped his macchiato and I said that I dunno, it’s easier to get up on sunny days rather than rainy ones, much less moony one.  Had he ever been to Alaska?  They sure must have some noble winters in Alaska.

He told me he saw a documentary about how Alaskan farmed salmon is getting into the indigenous population.  That’s the word he used, indigenous.  It’s fucked up, he told me.

I said that yeah, it’s fucked up because I didn’t want to tell him that I did agree, it was more noble, that it was easier to be awake when no one else was, if for no other reason than the fact that you would be asleep when they would later be awake, that maybe there was something noble in that.  At night, no wars are declared, no races extinguished, no forests cut down, nope, not on my watch.  I wanted to tell him that it’s only when the sun comes out that everything goes to shit.  And it’s not escapism, I’d say, it is noble, but I didn’t and I just drank my hot water and instead told him how tired I suddenly got.

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leselect-2523It was a flash rain and we ducked into Le Select.  The rain came down quick and fast and the servers tipped the chairs outside so the puddles wouldn’t collect.  Water came down quick off the awning and it was quiet on the inside of the floor to ceiling glass.  We sat down.  I acted as if to warm my hands and she watched out the window.

“It’s drenched out there,” she said, and that was it.

Once upon a time, we would forget to pick what we wanted we had that much to say.  They’d bring us the menus and we’d talk over them opened.

“Have you decided yet?” the server would ask.

“Oh, no.  One more minute,” and we’d do our best to concentrate on the small print.

Come to think of it now, I don’t think that’s actually true.  We never had much to say.

“So, how’s the States?” I asked.

“Oh, you know,” she said.

“Yeah.  I guess.”

The server brought water and I poured.  She swirled hers like wine and rearranged her silverware straight.  She glanced at mine, crooked, then at me.  I did nothing.  She watched outside someone parallel parking a Smart car unsuccessfully .

I felt the cold coming off the window.

“What are you getting?” I asked.

“A salad,” she said.

“Yeah.  Those looked good.”

She traced her finger over the rim of her glass.  I thought of asking for a lemon wedge for her.  She likes lemon wedges.  I didn’t ask.

“Do you like it here?” she asked.

“This café or Paris in general?”

She looked at me incrediously.  It was familiar.  

“Paris is always Paris and is bound to be,” I said.  “It’s a beautiful city.”  

The waiter took our order.  I got a salad.  She got the chicken.

A man in the phone-booth just outside yelled, smashed the receiver down, kicked the wall and walked away in a huff.  We both watched.

“What?” she said, after a pause.

“Hmmm?”

“I thought you said something.”

“Oh, no.”

The server brought our food, left the check on the table.

“Those salads do look good,” she said.

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