Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Here I Sit Just a Wonderin' Why


Some people get preserved in my mind like Marilyn Monroe.  A legend that died right at the height of their essence.  At their best time of influence or prominence in my life.  And when they're upheld there, on that pedestal, it's as if they shine with only their awesome traits visible.  And I have to wonder, how does this happen?  First of all, people generally don't stay the same.  They move on, they become other things. They are no longer that which I hold stored in my mental pickle jar.   Or are they?  Maybe one can conjure that particular section of an individual and it can live again.  Some people are capable of being a lot of things at once. I know I am.
I hadn't seen my brother in over 30 years.  I remembered him being very funny, sharp witted and cool in that older brother from the 70s sort of way.  And that's exactly what he was when I found him so many years later.  I felt like no time had passed that I didn't know him but in fact there was so much that I had missed.  The whole core of his adult life.  Yet there he was, exactly who I imagined.   I have always found it very easy to pick up a lost relationship.  But what calls me, prompts me to come back to past friends I've obviously dropped the ball on long enough for the game to have stopped?  And what is it that I really want from these people?  What do I feel I need from them?  Why do I care so much? 
It's a dangerous game to summon friendships that have floated away.  People aren't always happy to see you.  Also, I must constantly remind myself that when someone shows themselves, you should believe them.
Still, I bank on animal instinct to guide me while seeking valuable life.
I believe we have our brains and our hearts but also our inherent knowing.  A built in preprogrammed portal, more of a third eye that allows us to see a truth that is there but hiding in all the chaos or confusion of a situation.
Most people wouldn't doubt that a great song stands up forever. Once played again.  Even if you hadn't thought of it in years.  You hear it and instantly are brought to your emotional knees.  The power of the song is real.  The storm of effect comes from something alive within us. It never died.  The song just brings it to light. Stirs the pot. Like this pot of soup.

The music buyers used to go to the Olive Garden in Times Square to eat lunch courtesy of the sales reps for the distribution companies.  We could have gone anywhere close but somehow we chose this monstrosity for many reasons on a lot of occasions.  And to this day, I have a great fondness for this soup.  Zuppa Toscana.  With the warm breadsticks before the entree.  It represents afternoons in New York, having fun, laughing with friends, working somewhere incredible and being young and hungry and so alive!  I love Zuppa Toscana even if I have to recreate it here in my apartment using similar ingredients from scratch.


  • 1 lb Hot Italian sausage, broken up
  • 3-4 cloves garlic, minced
  • 1 large onion, chopped
  • salt & lots of cracked pepper
  • chicken broth
  • 4 red potatoes, diced
  • 1 bunch curly kale, leaves stripped and chopped
  • 3/4 cup of Greek yogurt
  • Grated Parmesan, for serving
  • You know how to make a soup.  Throw in the greens in the last 5 minutes of cooking 
The trick was to pull out a little hot liquid and mix up the yogurt entirely before pouring it directly into the boiling pot (but turn the heat off first) in the end so it doesn't curdle.  

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