you know what's really happening.
how'd it go?
i got to the spot, parked, walked, entered, beelined for my only interest,
crushed a trio of terrific cucumber-activated chunky choice chick pea champs,
chomped down, swallowed whole,
and then walked right the F* out.
i doo-doo that give-no-sh!ts about-the fair-other-than-falafel stuff.
check 'em out, because they look crazy delicious:
turned up with regular-A* ho' sauce, AND with very hot habanero sauce.
i'm about that falafel fire, friends.
this week is MY week.
and no disrespect is intended,
and i speak these truths without mean-spiritedness-
all those farmers and hay-balers and woodworkers and pie-bakers
and caramel apple-drizzlers are there to show off their stuff.
i get it.
this is their time to shine.
their hero time
and very proud, i'm sure, is somebody, of ALL of them.
there's lots of livestock to be judged for potential deliciousness,
and exhibitions displaying grandma's best quilts of all time, or whatever...
in all honestly, i just couldn't care any less.
i'm glad it's there. it provides a huge distraction for everyone else,
so i can slip in and shovel food into my face,
trying to set a record for fastest roundtrip,
to the fairgrounds and back again.
what can i tell you?
i'm a miserable old bastard, neighbors.
i've become curmudgeonly beyond my wildest expectations,
and as such,
if it's not falafel?
it can seriously go die in a hole, OR thrive forever, elsewhere, even-
i just don't have any interest.
maybe the late-week sentiment will take hold,
and i'll experience some nostalgia.
the vast quantity of falafel sandwiches i plan on consuming will fill whatever
void i might consider exists beyond my immediate hunger.
there's no time for exploration of the depths of my psyche,
there's too much to do,
and too much to eat,
to waste any time thinking;
never quiet, never soft.....