Friday, October 7


i set these goals for myself, in lieu of lacing up and lashing out at the labors
that loom in front of me on the productivity spectrum.
get it?
instead of drawing more art, to make more money,
i'm just eating a whole lot more falafel,
i continue to dominate a deed that NOBODY else
has deemed even marginally necessary,
nor showed any real interest in participating in.
.....but, then again, that's never been the point.
real talk.
it's not about how blarpity and blown-out my body gets from this undertaking.
it's not about driving across the valley, every day,
just to race in and out of the fair ground, like a roundhouse kickin' roundtrip cyclone.
it's because rules is rules.
word up.
it's an endeavor into excess that i've set out upon,
and i can't/won't/don't stop until the job is done.
check the teleport:

too much is the right amount.
and yesterday,
i got beat up by too much onion.
that's real.
spicy sharp slaps of uprooted allium bulb,
blowing up my spot,
and breaking my whole face right off,
left me a stink-eyed mouth-monster,
after just three tremendously rewarding,
yet equally damaging,
ultra-dope doses of falafel fuego.
i F*ing LOVE falafel.
i really do.
and this week, when it's right here,
and waaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy superior to the sh!t-salad suckholes
who claim they've got the goods in town?
THOSE fools are dirty liarmouths-
THIS stuff, at the fair, is the REAL TRUTH.
......believe it.
i gotta get the hottness while i can.
well, yeah, i DO make my own sometimes;
and i really make the heck out of a fresh one, too-
i mean, c'mon.
i'm not a little weak diaperbaby b!tch, after all.
(don't let those onions handing me my A* define my character, bro)
that's not showing support to a group of dudes i've literally watched
grow up and into the family business.
real talk.
i've seen these kids since they were kids.
i'm just some dude who effs with falafel heavy in these streets,
but it's cool watching the yearly evolution all the same.
i know you don't want to talk about it,
but, real life documentarians can't hold back the truth:
i'm literally pummeling my poor puckered poop portal to pieces,
and pressure-treating the pleats into plates.
i haven't taken up a late-in-life supergay grindr lifestyle.
it's these falafels, man.
they're so good, but at such a high price for my internals,
and for the spout that they eventually come out of.
sorry, friends,
but forewarned is forearmed-
this much falafel can hurt you as much as it will nourish you.
be ready, and maybe lay off of the Very Hot Sauce.
please, take my advice,
i'm not using it;
never quiet, never soft.....

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