Tuesday, September 13


i did it again.
another one.
a whole other 'nother other expert apple concoction,
with MORE pastry hottness,
especially for my own fat and eager F*ing face.
i ate sooooooo many,
i almost felt bad,
they tasted sooooooo good.
and sometimes,
just feelin' good is good,
and therefore, that's just what we need.
of course,
besides needing some good feelings,
i think i also  needed another stomach,
so i could fit more of these fresh little flaky friends inside me.
look at 'em.
no, really-
just LOOK at these tasty little tarts via the teleport:

i did it right, too, dudes.
almond essence, brown sugar, ginger, a pinch of cloves,
a little nutmeg and allspice, and cinnamon, naturally, with a splash of vanilla,
and some lemon juice to keep those apples nice and tight.
did i toast up some vanilla and butter'n'sugar black walnuts?
of course i did.
who do you think i am?
some kind of an A*-hole?
don't be dumb.
that's the flavor combo your face craves, kids.
apple walnut tart hottness,full-blown in flagrante.
yeah, that's IT!
the crust was predictably magnificent.
i gave you the recipe.
i also made more this morning.
i'm gonna need it, since apple pie is up next.
i've gotta learn to braid first.
lame crusts aren't invited to my makeout parties.
the 4 " circles i cut were just enough to fit a few walnuts in the center,
and a square of apple slices, stacked on stacks of themselves,
so i could wrap the sides,
and give 'em an upgrade of pre-autumn leaves and stars.
i want pretty food,
even if that's mostly treats these days.
410F degrees, 30 minutes, abject perfection.
that's the truth.
.....how good are they?
seriously, bruh.
i ate a flippin' ton.
almost to the point of bellyachin'......
...and then?
i ate a few more.
a regular batch of dough made a dozen, and i ate six in a row.
i dunno if that's a testimonial you can trust,
but it IS the way the it went down.
it's all really happening, guys.
that's the whole point.
this unpredictable, unmanageable tangled tousle of this convoluted wild ride-
that's what is unfolding along unmeasured miles of crumpled creases
in the discarded depths of the secret universal plan-
the long nights, and hard styles,
the deepest dark, the meager brights,
the spanning of ever-expanding expanses of empty space,
alongside whatever good and bad luck gets dropped off in-between.
how do you get ready for that?
how do you get ready for that?
i'm asking.
the path is unmarked, and the tarts are all gone.
wherever the next step takes us,
i'm hoping there's at least going to be more treats;
never quiet, never soft.....

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