Cookies, the case For

 

I’m not sure why and I admit it foolhardy now, as I look through my years past as over a bouquet past its prime, and its late prime, to its subprime, that I, too oft took the use of the word “can’t” as if those who, by word or deed had allied themselves ‘gainst the force of me. “You can’t go there!” Really, well then…done and back alive. “You can’t teach yourself to defuse bombs!” Harder if you are color blind, but no, not impossible. Each “can’t” was a challenge – a mountain to climb, a rule to be broken, a truth to be tested. So when my mother took the pan of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and cautioned me that I “can’t have too many” cookies I clearly saw that as a red line to be crossed.

Is that a challenge? Has a glove been dropped somewhere. So I wished to show her that she is wrong on every conceivable level. So I ate all the cookies and we reached an interesting moment:

According to:                                       I have:                                      I haven’t

My brain                                                                                              we all know that there never was nor will there ever be a time in my life when a fresh, slightly undercooked chocolate chip cookie wouldn’t be preferable to whatever I’m doing now. I cannot imagine thinking I have had “enough” let alone “too many.” That heresy must be rooted out for it is of the Devile. For a slightly crispy, mostly mushy warm to just bearably hot melts in a way who satisfies even the taste buds behind the back row who, because they don’t have rich daddies who buy them tickets, have to watch the concert of food that is my diet from afar. But these cookies seek out the least represented – the lonely and unloved, and these True Cookies, and bathe them, even them, in the glow of melted chocolate and the lightly vanilla (and even a citrusy-thing-going-on-there) of the cookie dough. So who could say that there might ever be too much of this kind of ooey gooey goodness in the world?

My mom                                             had way*

My mouth                                                                                           had “way”*

My heart (emotional)                                                                         never felt like this. I must

                                                                                                            Have more, always more

                                                                                                            So no, never*

My heart (physical)                             can’t talk. Pumping.

                                                            Mouth is a corporate shill.

                                                            Yes you had*

My stomach now                                                                                 huh? “no”. Whatever.

My stomach in about 30 minutes       whoa…that’s a lotta

                                                            Cookies. Let’s unbutton them pants.

Impressive but

                                                            I’ll allow it, often and soon.

More? So, too many? “Maybe”*

 

My blood sugar                                   No its fine its good and probably some more for you know

                                                            Science but anyway I feel like I can count my own blood

sugar right now so if you want me to teach that I can make that happen, or anything else you want as long as you give me more cookies. You have NOT had*

 

The cookie company                                                                           That man is a national hero

                                                                                                            And he has certainly not had*

 

Any medical professional                                                                    Yeah, that’s clearly*

Any dietician                                                                                       How are you alive? For a year?*

-------------------------------------

*Too many cookies.

 

 

 

A word about Dave Grohl

 Well, more than a word. Maybe a complete thought.

I was listening to music last night and the Foo Fighters' version of Baker Street. I know that for the first album, Mr. Grohl played all the instruments. That's impressive to me. I really hope that this version of Baker Street was a track on which he played everything. The idea that this was a song/recording on which every part is presented as a part of a single individual and the single individual has felt the pain and joy, the yearning and the sweetness through every instrument makes a lot of sense to me. Though, yes, I would have preferred that the central riff stay on a brass or woodwind, so the breathiness could come true, but the overall sense of desperation comes through and makes me feel like Mr. Grohl was really feeling everything through this song.

If anyone knows Mr. Grohl, please let him know that I'm a fan. That probably won't change the schedule of his day, but just tell him anyway. Thanks bunches.

On why I'm bored of living here

I have a plan -- at some point in the future, I want to move to Israel. Last night, I came to terms with why I want to. I mean there are the obvious reasons: food, ease of practicing my religion, the possibility of better weather, being near family. Those are all well and/or good. I am driven by a religiously inspired vision of Zion and Zionism and I see the value of a strong state as a bulwark against the spread of anti-Semitism but that's not entirely it.

The average American doesn't wake up each morning and wonder about "what if there was no America?" People in the US go on living without a concern for their future existence. They generally do very little to keep up the country, and they get all the benefits of it, but they see it as a backdrop of facts on the ground that aren't going to change. People generally don't have the very real option of "not living" constantly 30 seconds away. Imagining a world without the US as we know it is the subject of many an alt.fanfic work about multi-verses and other timelines.

But in Israel, the threat is real and constant. Identity is crafted in the shade of a safe room. Personal voice is set to the pitch of an emergency siren. What makes the individual an Israeli is to understand that to be an Israeli is to be "not an individual." There is a collective experience that unites us all. We are all, automatically, on the same side of at least one conflict.. The average American doesn't place any inherent value on "being in America" because there is no concept of "not being in America." And the average American lacks the empathy required to appreciate that others live with existential worry. The world is supposed to be a just place, says the American, and he can't appreciate that the reality doesn't match up to the idea that privilege assures him is true.

Side note -- I get the sense that most criminals in the US would draw the line at victimizing family -- in Israel, everyone starts out as family. So maybe there is less "random" violence because the random person you are mugging will end up sitting next to you in a safe room for the next hour.

Maybe I'll feel safer because I'll live with the sense that the guy walking towards me with a gun deserves my thanks, not my fear, and with the knowledge that most of the people I see there have held that gun and all deserve my thanks. It's like "Cheers" -- I want to go where I know that the troubles are all the same. We may curse at each other but when push comes to shove, we all push or shove together. Maybe it is a cliche or my own naivette speaking, but I want to feel like I belong somewhere, that the perception of me that some stranger has of me doesn't include "automatically different because he is Jewish."

I want to feel like I automatically align in a very essential way with most of the people in my neighborhood, the people that I meet when I'm walking down the midrechov. I don't want to have to "be on" and be ready to explain myself, or be judged, or answer questions about Judaicarcana, or be an ambassador of anything. I feel like there are more places where I can simply exist there.

And maybe I'm wrong, but I feel like there is something special about waking up there and already being at the spiritual center of my world.