ethiopia.

neighbors,
it's ALL about the food.
that's real.
i should've written more yesterday,
but i was molto busy making pancakes.
mmmhmmm.
hahaha.
that's a thing.
but, anyway, there was more than just burritos and cake involved
in my trip down to my homeland, homies.
really,
i'm tellin' you-
after that adorable junior high-style play wrapped up,
and the curtain was surely stayin' closed,

i absolutely HAD to get with the traditional cheshire, connecticut 

consolation prize on a cone.

what?

c'mon,.

i took my ma, my father, my daughter, and my ride-or-die b!tch

out for those icy cream hottness jauns.

duders,

rules is rules, 

and when you're in that crackery-A* craptown.

there is only one totally expert way to span time.

yuuuuuuuuuup.

check the teleport:

emergency tofutti!!!

with those fancy sprankles.

word up.

that's that good thang, right there.

however,
there was a whole lot more food to get involved with.
and you KNOW i actively participate, don'tcha?
damned right i do.
so,
for my ma's belated berfday dinnertime,
late in the evening,
on a collegiate street-level downtown saturday night,
getting live down in dirty gun wavin' money-cravin' nueva haven,
we beat up a double plate, and a whole exxxtra side plate
of diapery doodieblops and glops,
straight outta the freaky-diki depths of my ethiopian spot.
check the teleport:

kaBOOMfire.
and there was MORE, obviously.
check out the other other other stuff:

diaper bread injera and alllllll those blops,
and a jazz pianist tickling the ivories all evening.
expert.
the piano was less headachy than you might suspect.
food, y'all.
i love it.
and that ethiopian earth-toned pretty tony supreme clientele action
is the ultimate late night indulgence for people who know about what's good.
.....and me and mine know about what's good.
that's the truth.
*
negative degrees, every damned day,
and poor scheduling,
and poor people,
and petty individuals and petty situations that my crew goes through.
it's all hard styles,
and all of it is really happening.
if it was easy,
then it wouldn't be choosing the wrench, though, would it?
killing me softly,
and slooooowly,
despite my loud fresh hardness-
one wrench is all it takes,
and even the most well-oiled machine is wrecked;
never quiet, never soft.....