coarse grind.

coarse?
of course!
that's how i do what i do, duders.
coarsely.
sure,
i'm capable of refined and polished poise,
and practiced politeness, too-
but that's not where the flavor is.
nope.
that rough and tumble jumble of hard styles and jagged edges;
the chunky lumps and big business bric-a-brac;
the loose and free and feral fresh-to-deathfulness;
that loud fresh hardness for your face isn't couched in a subtle,
sensible, gentle presentation.
that's not how we doo-doo that freaky sh!t.
y'know what i mean, neighbors?
it's in that loose chop, not that mincey mince.
axe-warriors and berserker barbarians can surely relate-
it's always better with less finesse,
and more broad strokes and martial strikes and flippin' the F* out.
am i right?
i think i must be,
because my falafel situation is improving dramatically with every
guesstimated handful of ingredients,
and every heavy-handed drop of the knife.
what?
ok.
huh?
ok,
jeez,
ok- alright already-
i can acknowledge that precision IS good, sometimes.
but,
not when the garlic cloves and the chick peas are being blended together into
a parsely and cilantro spiked sphere of sexxxiness for my mouth.
you'd better recognize, because that's no joke, jerks.
coarse ground and coarse chopped and coarse hair and coarse hands-
there's a system in place for werewolfen warrior poetry waiting to be performed,
on a great many levels, in many different ways,
by all sorts of means,
but none of it is fine,
even when it's really good.
ha.
get it?
i like my art like i like my falafels like i like my poops.
fast and loose.
ummmmm, nope,
hold on and just wait a minute, there.
two out of three ain't bad, though.
whatever, y'all-
you just want to be bored of looking at falafel sandwiches,
and i want to bore you with 'em.
check the teleport:

oh, MAN!
i could eat these jauns alllllll the time (and i do).
the mandolin slicer is a very exacting piece of super-simple machinery.
see?
i can appreciate precision.
but i think that why i like it is because you basically just throw veggies at it,
and it slices the sh!t outta them so fast.
i dashed my onions, tomatoes, and cucumbers in like, eleven seconds flat.
mmmmmmm.
the cukes are a new addition to the team,
and maybe they're a bit too much,
since pickles have always been present and accounted for.
but too much is the right amount,
so i s'pose they can still come and hang out in falafelville with me.
and this time, there's also red cabbage and flat leaf parsley in the salad mix-
i figure the crawnchiness is a welcome added activation,
and they didn't have curly parsley at the grocer's.
how did these small changes affect my experience?
well,
they made me feel a little better about the long days and cold nights
that seem to make up this whole dang month.
a few cukes, and a splash of purple leaf,
and i get uplifted?
weird.
i did eat a whole lot of those tasty treats, though, yo.
teleport:

yup.
i love this new falafel mix.
it's got the big chunks of individual flavor exploding in each bite.
teleport:

that's right.
and just when i'm feeling full,
and the tahini is almost all used-up,
and there are only two weak circles of tomato in the mise-en-place bowl,
and almost no pepperoncinis left-
we have to doo-doo one last fat-belly bomber:

i mean,
rules is rules.
so, like, c'mon, man, get on my level.
*
rough around the edges,
and coarser than ever when surrounded by refined refreshments.
i guess i'm keeping it pretty true to my Folk Life mission statement.
i'm not a chef, i just cook a lot;
i'm not an author i just write a lot;
true stories about the mundane aspects of really real life are all i have to offer.
perceptions from a fixed perspective,
an advantageous vantage point for viewing the woodsly world i reside in
as all of it unfolds along the creases i create by passing through.
is that cool?
i doubt it.
is it all there is?
for as far as i can see from up here,
there's just more of all of this.
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....