Little Things: THOUGHTFOOD
Yesterday, a bunch of friends and myself went to the bar called The Moon in Northbridge to have lunch since we all got kicked out of The Brass Monkey because of an apparent lack of ID (it was only one person, for crying out loud, which was not me, it was L_____), maybe slightly related to the incident between a class lecturer giving the same girl at the said bar the shits because of his food order coming in dead-late the day before yesterday at the same place. Anyway, here we are, the four of us running around towards another destination on the same street as Retro Vinnies, which was strange because I’d thought we were going to the restaurant near the Hare Krishna place with all those nostalgic, somewhat tacky pictures where the water is in a used bottle of Limoncello. Anyway, here we are were, sitting down with a bowl of chips served with sweet chilli and Aeoli sauce, small fried Calamari with chips and salad (that order was my one) and pizza with a lot of pineapples with water and coke as drinks, where else I ordered Port for myself.
A few hours later, I’m back at home after trudging all of those artworks from the Art Space of my dear sister and then currently peeling prawns at the sink, marvelling how cathartic something like peeling prawns could be; not in the ultra-violence mode but calming, with the reinforcing thought that these guys had lives once and are now dead because of us and our need to absorb nutrients, therefore becoming the top of the food chain as we are. Which brings me to the subject of my past and cherishing my life, since in the past, I had survived from getting run over by a drunk in front of the wheel, getting my arm burned by hot oil, getting my foot cut by glass (with bits of that stuff embedded) and well before that, drowning at an aquatic centre during childhood. The guy I was serving one time who is the father of one of my workmates said something about me being a survivor. I just thought to myself of those seemingly indestructible cockroaches, capable of surviving nuclear attack without a bunker. So in my next reincarnation, I’ll be a roach. Cheers!