Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: babies, dreams, evolution, food, life, literature, love, men, random, sex, thoughts, women
Last night’s drink: Emergen-C.
The hot water is no match for the cold, so the shower will not be hot enough until February, at least.
Cumin in its whole form is so potent, three seeds taste like an entire Indian buffet.
The marmalade has crystalized, so the rinds now taste like candy.
I’m sort of on sensory overload right now. Every flavor, every thought, every emotion or tickle in my throat is consuming me in a gradual way – like a snake swallowing me from the bottom up. Henry Miller is whispering in my ear and my mind is receiving it, masticating, and absorbing the digestable parts. The result is a mind warp where the spread of San Diego looks like a champagne brunch sparkling in the sunlight. I could either order off the menu or walk over to the omelet bar and start kicking the tables over.
Lately, my drug of choice has been the pherormones that won’t leave my pillow, with or without the carrier. Somehow, he is always here when I lay down. We talk about nothing, really, and I file it away. But I wake up with my brain bathed in those invisible hands, and I can’t purge the scent or the visions that come with them. If I’m being honest, though, I haven’t tried.
Evolution is constantly used to explain the present or justify the past. It’s no leap for me, then, to think it can predict the future. If two people have chemistry so strong that their brains completely forfeit control over their bodies, it has to be some primal cue for compatibility. Forget love, trust, upbringing, religion, politics, demeanor, opposites attracting or any of the psychology that flaps its wings around it. I just want to know the physical product of pure, prolonged chemistry.
My guess is that I won’t find out for myself, but I’m inclined to think it’s some sort of baby recipe for divinity. Think of all the naturally perfect one-plus-ones. Honey and peanut butter. Chicken and plum sauce. Coffee and cinnamon. Mozzarella and basil. Chocolate and raspberries. Pecans and brown sugar, carmelized. This wouldn’t just be a love child- it would be Gia covered in cocoa soaking in a buttermilk bath; or Samson dripping with olive oil, tearing apart a garlic baguette.
The say you are what you eat. I bet evolution coined it.
Filed under: Daily Specials | Tags: , broke, food, life, Oz, Pretty in Pink, random, thoughts, Vegas
Tonight’s drink: still Rex.
Tonight is one of those wierd evenings where I’ve taken one bite out of pretty much every food item in my home. It’s like I have this deep hunger inside me that can’t be fed.
So why I am milling around, eating myself out of house and home? I think a big part of it has to do with the fact that I am really and truly broke, and all I want to do is go out and be around those heathens downtown. I’ve closed all but my emergency credit card accounts, so that I’m running solely on cash… or solely on fumes.. those two can be used interchangeably in my case.
I know there’s something good about staying in all weekend.. especially since I’m going to be spending almost all week in Vegas in just about 10 days. I’m going to sit by the pool and blog, or read, or tan, or people watch, or listen to music, or just sleep until my eyes are too awake to even blink. And then I’ll get drunk and dance and ravage my body all over again. So this weekend I must be completely opposite of my Vegas self. I must be mild and quiet and pale-skinned. Easy enough.
The one thing I’m going to have to abstain from both before and during Vegas is shopping… which really sucks. I’m thinking I’m going to have to put on some Pretty in Pink moves and sew together some fabulous top. It might be fun. Or, it might be a disaster when all of the seams split mid-dance move at Rain. On second thought, that should be worth at least one free drink.
More than the partying and the pretending to be fabulous, I’m looking forward to simply getting the hell out of San Diego. I’m tired of the work, the drama, the lack of friends. America’s Finest City has become my own personal Oz. I guess you could say that I’m off to see the wizard at the end of the I-15. There’s no place like anywhere but home.
