Friday, September 27, 2013

Elvis Alive and Shrugging Shoulders

Blues musicians, newsboy caps, long hair and tattoos. Bar stools and comfy cushions. String instruments I've never seen before. Shrugging shoulders and eyes closed, he feels the music––sings about a lasting love, a little boy sitting on his mother's knee. Yard sale tables and chairs, collaged and painted and glossed over from three different homes. Chinese lanterns, apple picking baskets, and a blue and green water pail. I sip "Elvis Alive" in a jar, pick apart my "Adventurer" filling bowl like I would a pomegranate. I love color in my food. I love the red beets that dye the corn pink, the avocados sliced like cantaloupe, the bright steamed kale, the curly cue legume sprouts like green baby heads with a single curl in their hair.

After a stressful week of school, all I need is good food and a quirky place––Life Alive. It's a small vegetarian restaurant in downtown Lowell, and it never fails to leave me fulfilled––both mentally and physically. It's a place where I just want to write, but never know where to start. I think I need to pick a corner to write about every time I go. There's too much to capture all at once. Life Alive is someplace you go on a date, or after a workout, or just out on a Friday night by yourself with eyebrows red from waxing while you wait to pick up your younger brother at a party. It's someplace you want to dress up in gauchos and tie-dye T-shirts and bandanas. And the best part? Every table has a ceramic pitcher of water, like the bread baskets most restaurants serve. I like the ceramic pitchers better.

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