Abigail Mandlin

Is chowder a soup?

 No.

 Yes.

 What do you mean?

Is chowder a soup or is it in its own category?

 It’s a soup.

 It’s a chowder.

 It’s a state of mind.

 Soup is a spectrum.

 Soup is a liquid.

 Soup is everywhere and nowhere all at once.

What makes chowder distinct?

 Chunkiness.

 Dippability.

 That it makes me think of my mother.

Is the ocean a soup?

 Well, both are salty.

 Both have stuff in them.

 Both will be swallowed by the heat-death of the universe.

What happened to good ol’ fashioned delicatessens?

 The plague.

 Anti-semitism.

 Late-stage capitalism.

Why is soup the only thing I look forward to these days?

 The plague.

 Anti-semitism.

 Late-stage capitalism.

I’m having trouble sleeping again without a midnight snack.

 Try soup.

 It’s the only constant.

 It was here at the beginning, and it will be here at the end.

 Eat it by the window and imagine yourself in a fantasy-world tavern.

 Lick it straight from the bowl like a feral animal.

 Pour it down the garbage disposal just to invoke an emotion (doesn’t have to be yours).

What if it’s too chunky to go down?

 Then it’s a chowder, obviously.

 Obviously.

 Obviously.