I've come to the cruel reality that I need to work for at least three hours every single day on my fuckin' classes. I don't know if I've told you this before, but it blows. At the end of those few hours I'm so burned out there isn't much else I feel able to do, besides watch the John Adams miniseries, or maybe that shitty quantum physics documentary "Down the Rabbit Hole." Get real spiritual with it.
Wanna know what rules? Ethiopian food. Just had it for the first time about four days ago, and I've had it twice since then. In case you're unfamiliar, as I was, it's usually just a bunch of lentils mashed together with some sauce, a little side salad, all served on a bed of this phenomenon called injera. What injera ACTUALLY is, I don't know (even though I've read what it is on the menu each time I've been there, thinking "yeah, I'm going to remember this this time around), but it also goes by the name... TEF? TEL? bread. It's essentially a crepe-like deal, really spongy, and huge. They lay this out on a big plate, slop some of their "wop," I think they call it, on top, and give you some extra bread on the side. Spicy as hell, super filling, and guess what? Super vegetarian. Not deep fried or anything. Fuck all that bacon-- as much as I miss it, I'm all right with this.
Last night (at Pasqually's, once again) I ran into the typical "What're you into? UFOs? I'm from Vermont and I've seen them. You're just one of those Everything's Cool tattoo guys, aren't you? Well I'll tell you, everything's not fucking cool, DUDE, you didn't work for it. I worked for it. My brother was in the air force and fucking LOVED cheese. That's what the god damn air force will do to you. Love that fucking cheese. You didn't even work for it," crazy people. It was all right, besides the fact that my body was running feebly on too little sleep and every time she would swoop around to my table (literally SWOOP and come in really close, like a ghost), it would scare the hell out of me. I was just trying to watch Sharktopus on ScyFy but this bitch had to keep asking "Do you care who wins [the Phillies/Mets game]? I don't fuckin' care. We're all losing, " etc. There's a certain state of mind where I can appreciate a person like that-- okay, they're out of their fucking mind, maybe the booze doesn't go so well with their medication, whatever, something to point at and laugh. But SOME of them [crazies] aren't so OBNOXIOUS either. They can take being shot down for a cigarette or some change, but others will grab your arm, tug on it a bit, and call you a liar, or a fucking cheap when you turn them down. And you know what? The only reason that pisses me off is because they're right. I am, in fact, lying when I tell them that I have no cigarettes, or don't smoke, or "only have five bucks for the rest of the week too, man, we're in the same boat." I suppose being so transparent is the real irritant.
Anyway, I'm hella tired-- just rode forty blocks and back on my bike. Turns out, Old City in Philadelphia isn't so bad. Expensive, but all right. Time for some John Adams and then bed.
PS: for all you non-Facebookers, I call this "Layers of meaning: a cosmology for the modern housewife"
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