I have an addiction.
I’ve had similar addictions before. But there is something about this one that is WORSE than the others. It is as though me and this thing were made for one another by the committee of people who put together stuff that just … FITS. Stuff that fizzes and fizzles.
When I put the cold can in my hand, no matter what the size, the normal cans or the smaller novelty ones, my palm folds neatly around it like a lover’s caress. I give the aluminum a light squeeze and I recognize that SOUND from anywhere as I give the top a practiced POP!
My lips are already crizzling with anticipation (yes, I made that word up just now. Isn’t it delicious?).
Like the steamed pork buns from the dim sum restaurant that shut down, or guacamole cups from Teka Molino – this is a taste that can’t be duplicated.
I have a list of tastes that can’t be replaced, and this addiction sits right there in my top with the migas and the cheesy things.
The only thing better than the pop of the aluminum is the whoosh! of the soda machine at the taco place. I make a suicide- it’s a horrible name for a drink that rocks.. a drink that renews my will to live each and every depressing time. There is an exactness about it’s preparation.. But these things must be cultivated.
I think that perhaps I am just nervous this week, and so my addictions serve to comfort me. I know that things are fine in moderation.
Maybe it’s the weekend.
I am a very nervous creature. And it’s not like it was in high school.
Or maybe it is EXACTLY like it was in high school.
I wish I could feel relaxed once again, but those things are always so temporary. They are there to be learned from..
It’s not good to feel TOO safe I guess.
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