Saturday, November 22

big fat frenchy fries.

baking up a tray of steak-cut thick slabs of french-style fried potatoes.
by the fourth friday in a row without dinner,
even i get a little disquieted.
and when there've been weeks of weak sauce seeping through the seams,
and nothing being really just what it seems,
i 'll eventually need to get activated,
and take that disquiet to the loud fresh hard limits
with gobstoppin' shark-gluttonous mouthfuls of beige.
what color are frenchy taters?
like that.
check the regionally-french-influenced-site-specific-suppertime-type teleport:
if you don't know, you'd better cherchez the internet, amis.
that bowl has got all the fatness, some of the hottness,
and so much gravy.
that's what happens when time elapses and color fails me.
buff, dun, beige, blocks and chunks and slabs and blops.
all of it, in my face,
full of flavor and loathing and self-indulgent self-destruction.
i mean,
potatoes are like underground blarp lumps;
and gravy, even with a perfect blend of savory herbs,
is liquid fat sauce.
the broth-braised chee' chunks i used to simulate curds?
so heavy, and so good.
in it's uncooked state it's browner than the yelowish hue it holds afterwards.
that's because of the cayenne and the smoked paprika that complement
the cashews, garlic, nootch, and tofu.....
turmeric is a come-from behind kind of spice, though, kids-
it'll get a foothold, and then take right the F* over.
that's no joke.
and there are extra-super-turbo-firm tofu cubes in there too,
for a double-tan two-fer of cheesy simulation,
and added pig-out poutine protein justificiation.
i doo-doo that explain-it-away-to-make-it-ok style sh!t.
i'm like that, it turns out.
i represented on some beige on beige on beige on beige business,
and i felt fuller in my stomach,
and desolate everywhere else.
real life, encapsulated in one monochromatic mealtime.
that's it.
the weekend is here for y'all.
that's probably fun?
i dunno.
i'll be busy until tuesday at the tattbomb shop,
and then i'll be even busier in the mutha-'ucking kitchen
when i'm not on the road back and forth between hard places
and traffic jammie-jams.
today is the day for too much tattoo in not enough time,
tomorrow looks worse,
with too much tattoos and not enough money,
and monday?
being busy is good, but making progress is better.
i'm looking for bright spots,
but the dark circles under my eyes are drawing off the glare,
and keeping the bigger picture out of focus, just past the corner
of where i can see.
the day will unfold, that's for sure,
and the creases will create the contour map
for the highs and lows of another 'nother long november;
never quiet, never soft.....

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