Porchetta, Freud and the Citizenship Award

The Beast and I decided to walk to the movie theatre this past sunny Saturday and along the way, we passed a shop called The Chief Salvage Co. that was filled with wonderfully odd and beautiful curiosities.

It’s the kind of store where you have to do a bit of hunting in order to find a treasure. And I did find one, in the form of a little gold crest pin with the word “citizenship” stamped across it. It was only $2 but I didn’t have any cash and the Beast was already outside. So, after holding the object in my hand and turning it over and over a few times, I gently set it back into a sea of a hundred other old pins, and joined the Beast out front and continued on our way.

Foodie: That was a fun store. (pause) I can’t stop thinking about this little citizenship pin I saw in there.

Beast: Was it like the Attendance and Punctuality pins in Rushmore?

Foodie: Just like those! (pause) Did I ever tell you about the time I won the Citizenship Award in grade three? It was a very important award; only one girl and one boy received it every year at Mary Bucke Public School.

Beast: How many people went to Mark Bucke Public School?

Foodie: Maybe 60 or 70? It was a little four room primary school. Still though, the competition was fierce. I remember sitting on the tiled floor with the rest of the school for the award ceremony and I had no idea I was going home with one of those felt crests that day. I was over the moon.  And I was absolutely in love with the boy who won, too. David Lepischak. I thought it was a sign; you know, that we both won, so we were meant to be together.

Beast: Silence

Foodie: I’ll never forget; after we accepted our awards, we both sat back down and David turned around and said, “Congratulations,” and he extended his hand for me to shake and oh my lord did I want to take it–I probably wanted to kiss him right then and there–but instead, well, I’m ashamed to say that I shook it and then made a funny face like I was grossed out because I’d just touched a boy’s hand and wiped it on the hem of my dress.

Beast: Why in the hell did you do that?

Foodie: Because all my friends were around, man! What would they say? Girls didn’t go around shaking boys’ hands in grade three. Oh no they did not! Anyway, I think I’ve regretted my pour behaviour ever since.

Beast: Do you want the pin? I have $2 right here.

Foodie: Oh, I didn’t know you had cash on you. Oh gosh, no. It’s okay. Really? You wouldn’t mind? I’ll just scoot back and grab it.

The Beast and I decided on a matinee showing of A Dangerous Method, which we both enjoyed quite a bit.  With our minds saturated and our stomachs growling, we walked to Porchetta & Co. for a couple of  sandwiches.

Foodie: I can’t believe I haven’t been here before.

Beast: Neither can I. Do you like your sandwich?

Foodie: It’s so good. I really like this bun. And the rapini. A really nice touch. Except it’s hard to chew in some bites.

Beat: That’s my only complaint. If they’d just chop it up a bit more.

Foodie: I’m shocked you liked the movie, to be honest. It seemed like something you’d hate.

Beast: I thought it was great.

Foodie: Even Keira Knightly?

Beast: She was a bit too visceral at the beginning and that was hard to watch, but she was good.

Foodie: Yeah, visceral. That’s what I thought, too. Well, that’s just great. Maybe you understood more parts of it than I did.

Beast: Why would you say that?

Foodie: You were laughing when the the rest of the audience was quiet during a few scenes.

Beast: Well, some of the characters reactions were so Freudian I just assumed it was deliberate.

Foodie: You used to read all about this shit, remember? When we first met? Did Jung really get into all that mystical sort of stuff?

Beast: He sure did. Some really whacky shit.

Foodie: Do you think Freud was right?

Beast: I don’t know if “right” is the right word.  I’m not sure he’s the kind of man who’d want everything he said to be taken as dogma anyway. But when it comes down to it–and science, as far as we can tell backs it up–is that we’re hard-wired to do one thing and one thing only. We have one basic drive.

Foodie: God, I’m hungry.

Beast: And even after 100 years, that’s still a very jarring fact and it’s incredibly difficult to take at face value because we’re distracted with so many other things in our modern lives.

Foodie: Do you want these fatty bits?

Beast: Sure. Freud called it sublimation; you take a desire and then channel it into something different.

Foodie: What do you think Freud would say about me buying that citizenship pin today?

Beast: I bet he would probably say something about you knowing that I had that money in my pocket so you kept hemming and hawing about the pin until I offered you the money.

Foodie: I didn’t know you had money in your pocket!

Beast: You know what else Freud says? That when we’re accused of something and then we deny it, it’s pretty much a sure-fire sign that you did, in fact, do it.

Foodie: Is this all we’re having for dinner? Or is this, like, an appetizer? Because I’m not full.

Foodie: ** 1/2

Beast: **1/2

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