y'know.
two men with nothing going on,
nowhere to be,
nothing pressing to pursue,
and an unhealthy appetite for self-destruction...
...and burritos.
we went and got groceries after work,
and then the tortilla circles got filled the F* up.
it took a little minute,
what with all the salsa activation first and foremost-
but eventually,
beans and rice were as nice as ever for our faces.
check the mexican-monday-type teleport:
uh-huh.
that's the only kind of burritos that get invited to MY place.
no jokes.
when a longish monday of working no that hard,
but working non-stop super steadily,
we readily greedily gluttonize the one highlight we allow ourselves.
when all you've got is hurting yourself with enjoyable experiences,
you've gotta take that choose-the-wrench-adventure-situation,
and turn it up to eleven, neighbors.
yeah.
louder, fresher, harder, and possibly spicier than the usual business.
what does that even mean?
it means tandem burrito barbarian beast-style doubles.
so much food, rice and baby spinach and fancy black beans,
and rice and beige vegan chik'n strippies, and spring greens, and chili,
and cilantro and all that.
it wasn't all that heavy,
for all the thickness and side-bursting of the rolled up results
-they were just very very filling..
and that's probably good i suppose.
it's also good that i didn't have to do it alone.
nothing screams self-loathing at a higher decibel level
than eating all four massive mission monsters all by your lonely.
the buddy system works, kids,
believe it.
that's the shared experience of bearing a burden,
and the improved-version shared experience of table solidarity.
the food is a punishment and a reward,
so, we're probably, like, bonding x2 and sh!t.
i dunno.
that might be crazy talk.
but i'll tell you something-
those burritos weren't crazy, b!tches.
those jauns were expert.
that's a true story.
***********
cover-ups.
damn i do a whole lot of 'em.
i'm doing one today, even.
and i consulted on two others yesterday,
and i tattooed two the day before that.
since when did i become i that guy?
maybe there was a secret ballot,
and my vote was missed,
but the majority landslide still carried the day?
beats me,
but i'm repairing piles of poorly placed and worse executed poop
all the dang time.
i guess it could be a whole lot worse-
bare blank skin means being able to put any terrible pinteresting
and uninterseting anchor-and-believe-and-bird-infinity stain right on it.
at least with cover-ups,
you already F*ed up once,
so your opinions and preferences are known
to be unreliable and therefore not to be well-regarded.
i suppose putting cooler stuff on worse surfaces
is still a bit better than crapping up a blank canvas?
who knows?
either way,
new tattbombs, or busted tattzaps,
i'm still just grinding, kids.
every day.
trying to hustle those movie checks,
and trying to get busy with some art-like satisfaction
from a job that kicks my A* as much as i kick it back.
jeez...
responsible adulthood is a real b!tch-A* thing to do, duders.
ugh.
day in, day out, i'm doing what i do,
and i'm pretty sure i took a wrong turn somewhere.
how did i end up here?
by making the right decisions at all the worst possible pivotal plot points.
truth and consequences and burritos.
it's ALL really happening,
checks, checkpoints, and imbalances;
never quiet, never soft.....
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