you know what's up, neighbors-
too much is the right amount,
and everything else is nowhere near enough.
the thing is,
when it comes to shark-gluttony and the unhingeable jaws of overindulgence,
yesterday was the actual day.
that's real.
the friday of the fryeburg fair has a purpose,
and that purpose has a name:
feel awful falafel friday is the TRUTH, duders.
it's no joke, even though it totally sounds like a joke.
and sure,
in the overlapping overlay of everyday doo-doo buttery b!tchbaggery-
it isn't mandatory,
at least, not for diaperbabies or weak-sauce little waterponies,
but,
it surely serves to identify who among the fairgoers is a really real
rule-respecting dominant decree-devising devastator of worthy warrior willpower.
and that's what i'm talking about, kids.
so few people love anything enough to do it so hard that you end up hating it,
and then keep on doing it some more.
somehow,
that seems counterintuitive to their lovey-dovey honeymoon mindset, i s'pose.
in reality, however,
that's exactly how much you've gotta get busy with what you're all about.
(because too much IS the right amount)
real talk-
if it doesn't consume and transform you, as you consume and transform it,
(in this instance i also mean that literally)
until a grudging ground-giving-and-gaining stalemate of battleground barbarianism
begins to activate the real, deep, dirty hidden reserves of commitment?
well, your sh!t is molto weak.
that's the challenge, in everything, isn't it?
to remember how much you love something,
so you'll fight through the hard parts when you don't?
it's a metaphor for every interactive participation you'll ever have,
and the big booster shot of tempered-ironclad resolve,
for me anyway, happens to fall on a friday.
check the food-as-allegory-for-relationships-of-all-sorts-type teleport:
kaBOOOOOOOMFIRE!!!
feel awful falafel friday, F*ers
so many chick peas, so much tahini,
and that v.h.s. in all it's combustion-activating spicy glorious fury.
there are three stages, and they're all important.
the first?
feelin' awesome:
two babaganoush'd good'uns,
straight down the hatch,
smooth, and delicious, and spicy as a sunovagun...
those are the base layer of big business and burly barbarian action.
then comes phase two-
feelin' FULL:
yeah.
at this point,
the seams seem stretched out,
and the hull is fit to burst;
appetites are sated,
indulgence has made it's point,
and everybody could leave the table knowing they got what they wanted,
with a whole lot of something good going on inside.
however,
rules is rules,
and hard styles don't sleep any better on a full stomach.
but, on an overfull stomach, the hardest styles know the score.
you don't stop until you feel awful.
i'm just sayin',
it's not called feel fine falafel friday, you mincey mama's boys.
check the feel-awful-devastation-type teleport:
that's the stuff.
one last whole other other 'nother one.
from the fresh hot fires and the boiling oils,
the siege on nancy-pantsy-style quittery culminated
in a crashing cacophonous crescendo of classic falafel punishment.
i mean, c'mon.
you know i had to do it.
moderation is for the unsuccessful.
what?
that's a thing.
moderation is a b!tchass thing to do.
like,
it starts with a falafel, and spreads to the house.
y'know?
so i applied the template of the principle to the friday holiday hottness,
and reminded myself to never ever ever ever settle for anything less than MORE.
not even once.
so number twenty went down hard,
with a forceful final gulp,
and my creaky-kneed victorious exeunt from the fair followed moments later,
with the goals set in my sights, swallowed down, and conquered for another year.
the alchemical aftermath has been unholy hell,
and the crazy falafel fever dreams have been more akin to a visionquest,
but like i told you before, time and time again-
too much is the right amount,
and anything less is not enough.
i'm an expert of excess,
and i'm here to eat falafel and flip the F* out all day.
so,
if you're in the area, and you're so inclined,
maybe i'll see you back at the fair tonight.
i'm good for a few more falafels for dinner.
i do what i do because it all applies to everything else.
it's all really happening,
and the overlaps are as infinite as my true nature.
win win win;
never quiet, never soft.....
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