“Nobody Eats at Brunch/Gelato #41 (Use Cold Rice)”

“I’m starving, but I can’t eat — I hate this feeling.”

“Take your time,” I laughed at the kid because he’s a walking garbage disposal, as my people used to say to me. A few of them died and stuff like alcohol and pigs feet and cheese danishes, mixed with sitting still most days, shortened their supposed golden years. Here is my son, a frigging teenager, counting macros and sniffing around the kitchen for Djon Djon and griot before his workout.

“I thought you didn’t eat mushrooms anyway?”

“Yeah, but yours looked good on your steak and cheese from Chicago’s — I tried one when you went to grab your green tea — I like them now.”

“Oh? Well, here,” I say, “try this — ,” watching his face sour.

“Dad, you know I don’t eat fried rice — yuck.”

“It’s got lobster in it.” His eyes got big.

“Lobster?” Head tilt. And what else?”

“Try it. The rice is infused; the lobster has been marinated in Ace of Spade, rosé, about six hours.” Ace starts laughing and I think about how ridiculous actually having money and access is. Don’t get me wrong — I’m not trading this shit for the world. It’s just that, back in my formative years, I grew up around people who could smoke cigarettes in school or on airplanes, and by the time I was a…