potato bacon soup recipe

i'm an artist. i can't help it. everything would be easier if i wasn't. whatever. there is nothing i can do about it, but create. and most things i create don't get recognized by people. i write this blog; maybe five people read it. i make a painting; maybe fifteen people see it. i write a screenplay; three and half people read it. i could go on and on. maybe i will turn that list into a poem. not here. not right now. i'm not trying to get down. i am just telling it how it is.

so, today, at work, at the deli, i create my potato bacon soup. it is the first time i do such a thing. no recipe. no exact idea of the end result. my mind is working in spontaneous clarity, just plucking the ingredients from the kitchen shelves, like eve plucks the apple, ready for sin.

i know it will be good. how could i go wrong with potatoes, cheese and bacon? i couldn't. garlic flying. onions in a state of perfection.

and the customers of the deli rejoice. it is done and awesome and everyone buys it.

the potato bacon soup isn't art, though.

art is something extra. the people don't need my novel, or my blog to live, but my spontaneous soup gives them strength.

so, how can i have it so my words taste as good as my soup? hmmm.