MAMA!

CALL YOUR MOM.
TAKE HER TO BRUNCH.
SEND A CARD.
GET FLOWERS.
DO SOMETHIN'.
dudes,
it's a whole day dedicated to moms.
so, if she's still around, do a nicey-nice thing.
and if she's not around anymore, do a nicey-nice thing as a tribute.
moms are important, and don't you forget it.
me? i called my ma at 5 a.m.
we laughed and cried about my sisters and my father.
was i and/or am i a good son? ...damned if i know.
but i also wished warmth and gratitude to my childrens' ma,
because like i said- moms are important.
*
alright.
that's enough of that.
now let's get to the really real heart of the matter...
-
guys,
i needed it,
even though i'd already had it twice in the preceding 24 hours.
mmhmmm.
that's real.
because you can't ever have enough,
and too much is for sure the right amount,
and anyway,
there's no such thing as saying NO to pizza.
huh?
well, OBVI, i'm talking about pizza.
c'mon.
my good buddies, nate and dylan and i tuned up a trio of large
and in charge jauns at the flatbread company in town on friday night;
and then we all had a sicilian square saturday interlude,
hot and fresh from elvio's, next door at AMPERSAND TATTOO,
and i closed  out the circadian cycle with an enormous solo explosivo deluxxxe
at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
uh-huh.
i don't give any F*s, dudes.
i'm coping with the trials of loss of life and love like a big, fat,
shark-gluttonous juggernaut of spirit and memory,
and Positive Mental Attitude adjustment.
what?!
yes, i'm serious.
i choose pizza, conversation, creativity, exercise, and determination, man.
i'm making dough when i'm not at work making dough,
and i'm investing time and energy into MY personal perfection of pizza pie,
as well as contributing to the overall economic awesomeness
of the larger pizza pie community in my area.
and if you can't hang out with that,
or you don't want more pizza all the time?
well, then you're probably an A*-hole.
check the teleport:

RADICAL HOMEMADE HOTTNESS FOR YOUR F*ING FACE!
when things are bad, pizza makes 'em better.
when times are good, pizza makes 'em great.
anytime, and every time, pizza is what you need, if you're feeling needy.
almost as good as genuine interconnected forward progression
towards your better'n best self;
definitely way more rad than curt, cursory overlaps
with rowdy, clouded, unwoke broke folks.
pizza is the TRUTH, kids.
and this one is the freakin' GOSPEL according to rock.
the dough?
incredible.
the toppings?
remarkable.
the big picture?
illuminating.
your oven should have a baking stone in it by now.
also,
you should have your sh!t cranked up to 485-500℉.
your dough needs kneading and rising and all the necessary treament,
as per the instructions included in prior posts,
like THIS one.
-
now,
while the oven was preheating,
i roasted those slices of sweet potato, on parchment, on a tray,
with pink salt, GPOP, and olive oil, until they started to brown a bit.
mmmmmm.
sweets are expert af on a pie, neighbors.
-
but, i began by stretching and hand-tossing that custom foccaciaesque dough,
and laying out a few handfuls of baby spinach, and a lil bit of chiffonaded radicchio, too.
fancy.
daiya mozzarella, minced for maxxxed-out meltability over that,
and then those slightly-cooled sweets.
-
here's where the sexxxy-sexxxinesss got involved-
pan-grilled brussels sprouts, quartered and sizzled up,
and softened just enough to be easily devoured.
SO GOOD.
and then a lotta red onion.
yeah!
vertical long-sliced slivers of that oh-my-goodness onion zing are always invited.
fried garlic sprankles?
c'mon. ...what are you?
dumb?!
rules is rules up in here, buddy.
definitely went  heavy on the garlic.
-
and then,
because i want ALL the fresh-to-death delights in every bite:
smoky spicy chick peas!!!
using the fried garlic oil pan, with all that infused flavor,
i seared up 8 oz of chick peas, with hot paprika, smoked paprika, and GPOP.
daaaaaaaaaaaaamn!
what else?
radicchio ribbon sprankles, for the WIN!
wooooooooooo!!!
-
now, i'm not that smart.
and worse, i'm not very cool.
heck, i'm even kinda busted in most of the ways you can be...
but,
if pizza was wealth, then i'd be the richest one on earth, y'heard?
i've got miles of styles of pizza, and it's a flippin' good thing-
because i've got hectare-sized holes in my soul these days,
and it's gonna take a LOT more of these remedies to repair what's missing.
on the ones, i've been buying extra flour in preparation of some serious healing.
ha!
***********
i'll just come right out and say it:
drinking alcohol is whack.
and if that's your thing? you're whack.
if that's how you loosen up? you're out of touch with yourself.
if that's what you need to do to have fun? you're boring, and that's sad.
if alcohol, and it's effects, are integral to who you are?
i feel badly for you,
and i feel even worse for me because we are NOT gonna make a lasting connection.
it's no big deal- you'll certainly be accepted by the rest of the world,
and all it's maximized escapist distractions, detraction, detours, and derailments.
anyway,
maybe i'm whack.
maybe it shouldn't matter to me if people want to hurt themselves in the name of happiness.
mostly, it doesn't, save for those few people i find myself invested in.
and then, before i know it- we're out of sync, and i'm out of step,
and i'm home alone.
while i'm keeping pace with the pursuit of something bigger than myself,
the result is that it keeps narrowing my focus,
which is hopefully not closing my mind,
but is definitely shrinking my world.
i think this is how black holes form, right?
everything, reduced in size, increased in density, and magnified in intensity.
the main difference is that the collapsing stars attract whole systems and devour them,
so much so that all light is absorbed, and at the point of entry, time is infinite.
as for me?
i'm repelling all lightness, reflecting all existing systems (of thought, anyway)
and it sure feels like time is fleeting.
who'd have thought that hating poison would be so polarizing?
as for me, i've still got the straight edge,
and even if 100% of my friends have partners who are NOT that,
i can't in good conscience consciously accept with open eyes and an open heart
the choice to be a less competent, capable, reliable, relatable version of oneself,
and then pretend that we're still on the same path.
it all boils right back down to the prime directive:
just be dope, or F* right off.
and that's every time, all the time-
even when it's the weekend;
even when something hard is happening;
even when something good is happening;
even if you're nervous;
even if you're anxious;
even when it all seems hopeless.
because it's only hopeless if you give up.
and giving up is not dope;
never quiet, never soft.....