" Take the heat off with the godamn Oingo Boing sometimes, man. "
- Garrett
A true sign of the mellowing with age has to be the lax feeling i'm having knowing that everything I wrote below came from a place of idiocy -overall. Also, my grammar and syntax are terrible.
Oh yeah, I miss Michael Jackson a lot lately.
Monday, November 24, 2014
Sunday, November 9, 2014
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
She said that to me too!
I love that feeling of having food move through my gut. It's a good warm comfort knowing that this gear's cranking, and it never ends in any acrimony or tears no matter what we do. And who's having more fun ?
Isn't this a sensation that we could connect with that isn't so akin the to articulation of say, sexual orgasm which tends to be taboo? Something we cant talk about in front of children? Could we argue that somewhere the feeling of digestion is common conversation? We get somewhere close when we describe the olfactory sensations of consuming some foods, true. It might be fascinating to hear how perhaps say a brewer feels digesting bread, knowing that his system is perhaps replete with wild yeast and enzyme. Or maybe how some babe might feel wrapping lips around some wagyu brisket and rice.
i bet its something like:
"Well, it was nothing but salty and greasy ecstasy before i eased it down. Now it is a bit burny and rough on my chest [ as i bet meat can get quite acidic in action], must've been all that punch. Its been raising hell for over a half-hour now".
Maybe some people are expressive non-verbally with foods that cause flatulence.
Now, let's just say you've been saying something like "that's what she said", "it is what it is", or raised rhymes like "Sunday funday" in a real serious context( you might as well be dead, to me). These were social cues engineered to bring people together, I know. These things save time, let everyone know you're listening, and have enough free-time/socio-economic girth to own and watch a television?
How can i be a part of that? What the fuck is "Sunday funday" exactly?
. What's next on the menu?
Isn't this a sensation that we could connect with that isn't so akin the to articulation of say, sexual orgasm which tends to be taboo? Something we cant talk about in front of children? Could we argue that somewhere the feeling of digestion is common conversation? We get somewhere close when we describe the olfactory sensations of consuming some foods, true. It might be fascinating to hear how perhaps say a brewer feels digesting bread, knowing that his system is perhaps replete with wild yeast and enzyme. Or maybe how some babe might feel wrapping lips around some wagyu brisket and rice.
i bet its something like:
"Well, it was nothing but salty and greasy ecstasy before i eased it down. Now it is a bit burny and rough on my chest [ as i bet meat can get quite acidic in action], must've been all that punch. Its been raising hell for over a half-hour now".
Maybe some people are expressive non-verbally with foods that cause flatulence.
Now, let's just say you've been saying something like "that's what she said", "it is what it is", or raised rhymes like "Sunday funday" in a real serious context( you might as well be dead, to me). These were social cues engineered to bring people together, I know. These things save time, let everyone know you're listening, and have enough free-time/socio-economic girth to own and watch a television?
How can i be a part of that? What the fuck is "Sunday funday" exactly?
 |
| yeah buddy. That was major panic at some point. |
. What's next on the menu?
Monday, October 13, 2014
Some obscure foot pain
In general, Ive got a recurring daydream skating a handrail. I thought i would have done away with all that years ago, but..they have a mellow rail at the Alga park. I gotta tempt fate!
Update : i want to note here after some months of recover that I've eaten some serious shit off handrails.
Update : i want to note here after some months of recover that I've eaten some serious shit off handrails.
Monday, October 6, 2014
FLASH
I'm seeing some YouTube ads for a new Flash (note: not Flash Gordon , which would be way cooler) TV series. I don't think I recall the protagonists origins as is depicted in his original comic. However, the ad makes the young lad out to be a reluctant hero, a pussy, who sprouts into a raw, genuine superhero.
I feel like this is the answer to some sort of beta-male identity crisis that this generation is having. Seems like based on his body type, shrill voice, and mannerism, this character should be appealing to me. It's impressive to behold in this era of specialization, Hollywood is willing to cater to me finally.
Anyway, this guy has it all wrong, and should quit dilllying around. Take up the knife and apron already!
I feel like this is the answer to some sort of beta-male identity crisis that this generation is having. Seems like based on his body type, shrill voice, and mannerism, this character should be appealing to me. It's impressive to behold in this era of specialization, Hollywood is willing to cater to me finally.
Anyway, this guy has it all wrong, and should quit dilllying around. Take up the knife and apron already!
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Earliest Food Memory + Father's Day special.
Here, so i can at least defer to something I scripted when I hit it 'Pete-Gabriel-big-time' and "what is your premier food memory?" becomes a common interview question for me.
'sonly a matter of months now I can feel it.
My first food memory, or perhaps most recognizable food memory is also my first musical memory.
I can recall being about three years old at my old North Park residence now. It's 1994.
My dad's a huge fan of old and smelly music. He's a huge Pink Floyd fan, a huge Who fan, and an even worse Buddy Holly, Elvis Costello, Chris Isaak junkie. He still listens to that shit today. Anyways...
I can remember that at round seven o' clock, once my dad had gotten back from work he'd cue up his latest purchases. For some reason my mom and sister weren't present (i think my sister had gymnastics by this time and mom was her chaperone).
We had free reign on the volume and usually things were blaring --although at that time i suspected that was just typical settings for most people. We'd scoot through some tracks while he pilaf'd some long rice. I'd either draw or play around with some toy-cars while he scrambled up some eggs. Eventually things would wind down.
Around this time Pink Floyd had dropped 'The Division Bell'. A distillate of modern work following a huge tour during the late 80's for the band.
I can recall the build up on "What Do You Want From Me".
There's a nice lingering breakdown and juicy rounded bass that works into a instantly funky groove. The retro atmosphere is backed by the Wright organ-synth that places a jazzy hook.
Simultaneously, dad would be on the delivery. My supper-dish would be hovering just before Gilmoure's shreddy intro.
"AAASSS YOU LOOK ARRRROUNDDD THIS ROOM, TONIGHT!!!"
The two would hit in a energizing crescendo that would send us into a quivering, spine-jarring dinner smack-down. We'd lock eyes here and there, peer out into the setting sun on our back door porch, and munch...probably both imaging ourselves in other places thanks to the Nick Mason, Rick Wright, and David Gilmoure assemblage.
"DOOOO YOU WAANT MY BLOOD!?????"
We'd wreck some rice underneath tuna-fortified mushroom sauce. Usually garnished with some diced broccoli, diced-up celery, carrots, and peas. Super salty. I remember waking up sweaty later in the night. Usually finish things up with some homemade corn bread and a glass of milk.
I dunno how we handled it at all back then.
On one separate occasion, i remember getting a little older and critiquing my dad's cooking. While i was never overly objective about any one item, i remember being struck by the eggs he'd fire up once in a while.
I said "hey, i think the eggs are very good" and he looked at me slightly irritated and said "Everything is good!"
Sorted.
'sonly a matter of months now I can feel it.
My first food memory, or perhaps most recognizable food memory is also my first musical memory.
I can recall being about three years old at my old North Park residence now. It's 1994.
My dad's a huge fan of old and smelly music. He's a huge Pink Floyd fan, a huge Who fan, and an even worse Buddy Holly, Elvis Costello, Chris Isaak junkie. He still listens to that shit today. Anyways...
I can remember that at round seven o' clock, once my dad had gotten back from work he'd cue up his latest purchases. For some reason my mom and sister weren't present (i think my sister had gymnastics by this time and mom was her chaperone).
We had free reign on the volume and usually things were blaring --although at that time i suspected that was just typical settings for most people. We'd scoot through some tracks while he pilaf'd some long rice. I'd either draw or play around with some toy-cars while he scrambled up some eggs. Eventually things would wind down.
Around this time Pink Floyd had dropped 'The Division Bell'. A distillate of modern work following a huge tour during the late 80's for the band.
I can recall the build up on "What Do You Want From Me".
 |
| Nothing can beat this. There's no amount of money. |
Simultaneously, dad would be on the delivery. My supper-dish would be hovering just before Gilmoure's shreddy intro.
"AAASSS YOU LOOK ARRRROUNDDD THIS ROOM, TONIGHT!!!"
The two would hit in a energizing crescendo that would send us into a quivering, spine-jarring dinner smack-down. We'd lock eyes here and there, peer out into the setting sun on our back door porch, and munch...probably both imaging ourselves in other places thanks to the Nick Mason, Rick Wright, and David Gilmoure assemblage.
"DOOOO YOU WAANT MY BLOOD!?????"
We'd wreck some rice underneath tuna-fortified mushroom sauce. Usually garnished with some diced broccoli, diced-up celery, carrots, and peas. Super salty. I remember waking up sweaty later in the night. Usually finish things up with some homemade corn bread and a glass of milk.
I dunno how we handled it at all back then.
On one separate occasion, i remember getting a little older and critiquing my dad's cooking. While i was never overly objective about any one item, i remember being struck by the eggs he'd fire up once in a while.
I said "hey, i think the eggs are very good" and he looked at me slightly irritated and said "Everything is good!"
Sorted.
Tuesday, June 3, 2014
NOw a question for you!!
Is smoking as convivial as eating with someone?
 |
| new birds beak for this artichoke season 2014 |
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