Sunday, June 3


saturday night had me feeling worn the eff out, dudes.
a full day of tattoo appointments,
with a little walk-in squeezed in, too-
after a hot and sweaty morning of exercising,
in anticipation of the summer body that has somehow eluded me every summer for decades;
which had me shimmering in overheated humidity before i even began
dragging crabtree for his pre-work constitutional,
so that by the time i got home to the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
for some decompression, or at least some kind of super suppertime...
....i was already all spent, used up, and worn out.
and that meant dinner was kind of a distracted attack 
on stacks upon stacks of stuff i had already.
sometimes, there's no time, man-
i had steak fries in the oven, baking throughout the preheat process, 
as soon as i walked in the door.
i shredded some slaw, because crawnchy raw veg is what your body wants-
red cabbage, radicchio, green cabbage, carrot, and scallions, 
with a lil crackle of himalayan salt,
and a small blop of vegenaise to dress it up.
and then, of course, i made a FAT sandwich, like the fat pig within me demanded.
check the teleport:
yeah. i'm guilty, neighbors.
that IS ketchup.
organic agave jauns, with sriracha, and liquid smoke, and just a touch of tamari.
i KNOW, i know i know-
ketchup is for A*-holes.
and also, That's What Poor People Do.
i've been feeling impoverished of character, 
and i guess i subconsciously acted accordingly.
that sandwich, though.
for reals.
so many good things packed into one spot,
ready for my big fat mouth to bite-rip-tear-gnash and masticate 
like the savage stormswept shark-glutton we know me to be...
look closer at this thick, greasy, sunovabtchin' burly beast:
that's a lotta stuff.
and that's what happens when i dunno what's happening.
we got pan-toasted olive-oiled homemade sourdough bread.
we got lettuce, and AVO-F*ING-CADO, and charred cabbage, too.
then, there's that smoky chick-pea-flour-crusted savory fried tofu.
seriously, guys- garam flour, GPOP, smoked paprika, parsley, 
and freshly-cracked black pepper, on exxxtra-firm slabs of tufu, fried up,
all exxxtra-crispy on the surface, but still soft and steamy in the centers.
that's expert af, and that's what made my flippin' night.
then there's pickles and caramelized onions, 
just to really make it a heaping mountain of excess.
too much is the right amount
and everything else is a waste of time.
my best work? nope. missed that mark by a mile.
i actually kind of took it easy, and didn't even actually eat everything.
i know, right?!
what a little diaper baby.
and right after dinner, the crabby-boi and i were out in town, making our rounds, 
in a big loop through the village center.
that's our thing, man.
we digest our day, and our food, and try to find nourishment from both.
then he poops on something, and i give him a cookie,
and that's all pretty good stuff.
time is ticking and tocking away,
and every day,
i'm up earlier and earlier, 
and it feels like i'm getting less and less done...
i get home and i'm tired.
like, actually tired.
and then i cook, and i give the dog his due attention,
and by the time it's finally dark,
i'm done for.
that's not my style, friends.
did i turn actually all-the-way old?
or is 4 am too early to wake up every day?
or is staying up late texting from this old haunted house getting to me?
probably everything, all at once.
the thing is-
my routine is solidified- 
it's as heavy as cement, and just as dense. 
it's all really happening, 
and there's got to be room for a little MORE.
i mean, c'mon.
there's so many things to DO.
so many things to MAKE.
i wanna produce quality content,
even if contentment never settles in.
that's all.
no sleep, no worries, no problem-
all i want is MORE of everything all the time every day until 
the day i die in the far flung future-
i don't see how that's unreasonable;
never quiet, never soft.....

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