1. I’m in a fantastic mood today. I think sometimes the universe awes me so much it’s impossible to be upset because I’m alive and life is beautiful
2. I had a hellofa breakdown last night in the middle of the night. The anger inside of me that I don’t even realize is there scares the shit out of me.
3. I saw an associate of mine on the street. She just moved into my neighborhood. Across the street. In my best friend’s old apartment building. I like her. Good thing because I’ll definitely be seeing her around. See random universe.
4. I’m on the way to the chiropractor. I need to go so bad.
This started off as a reply to suzyfuckingtaco, then got a bit out of hand. The question was about my wife’s family’s food.
There are a lot of styles of national cuisine that are broadly popular. French obviously stands apart from everything else. Don’t get me wrong. I hate the French. Everyone does. But, you have to give them dibs. They have highway reststop restaurants that beat anything most American cities have to offer. Italian is universally popular. Thai and Mexican are styles that you’ll find offered and enjoyed just about everywhere. Chinese is to diverse to actually define, but you’ll never run out of people suggesting we go out for Chinese tonight.
The simple fact is, diversity of cuisine is one of the things that makes this world a great place to live. As we mix and mingle our genes, ideas and lifestyles we’ve become better understanding and appreciative of the world we live in. That diversity of diet can also make us healthier and stronger.
there are many national cuisines, that while enjoyed by those raised on them, hold almost no appeal to anyone else. I’d be making a lot of enemies if I started naming them. So, here we go.
No gentile has ever eaten a matzo ball without gagging. Just like we told you your son’s bris was totally cool, we lied. Love you guys. Great friends. Please don’t invite me to your house at dinner time again.
German. That’s half my heritage and while I enjoy parts of it, I think if you flew a plane load of rollmops and headcheese into Somolia they would let it rot on the runway.
Anything from the British Isles. To their credit, in recent years at least they’ve come to admit this themselves and adopt the cuisine of their former Indian colony as their own. Good, as I’ve squeezed more appealing things out of my ass than a black pudding. Indistinguishable in appearance though.
Russian. Cabbage. Say no more.
Australia. Vegemite. Really? Yeast belongs in beer. No where else. Got it?
This is obviously the point that I’m coming to. My wife is Dominican. I love her very much. Besides being the mother of two outstanding children, she is also an excellent chef. She has been exposed to some of the best food the world has to offer and has become quite adept at producing it. She has that extraordinary ability that allows her to create food in a way that I can only compare to composing music. She intuitively knows what flavors will mix together in a pleasing way.
However, the rest of her family have never explored anything outside their traditional food. If you can call it that. Every meal is almost exactly the same. Rice and beans. A wilted iceberg lettuce salad in oil and vinegar. Some over cook meat of the cheapest possible cut. The same seasoning is used on every dish. Meats have to be marinated for a day just to be edible. Unlike most tropical cuisines, it is not spicy. Just bland, over cooked, cheap and loaded with carbs.
I know what you’re going to say. That cuisine evolved out of economy. People did the best they could with what was available. Sure, that was true a few generations ago back on the island, but these people aren’t poor anymore. They’re just cheap.
I still remember her brother showing me this 20lb bag of “steak ranchero” that his butcher buddy had hooked him up with for 10 bucks. I’m like, he didn’t hook you up, he ripped you off. That was scrapped off the butchering room floor with a shovel and was on it’s way to the dumpster out back. He just made $10 out of something he was about to throw away.
And now, we’ll find out if my wife or any of her family read by blog. I’m sure there will be arsenic in my dinner the next time we go to visit. At least they’d be relieving me of my misery.
I see a lot of people responded to my Throwback Semi-SST pictures of me and my ex-boyfriend. Suzyfuckingtaco remarked at how happy I looked and I will say that is genuine happiness, that was me at the very pinnacle of perfect enjoyment I’ve ever had before or since in a relationship.
Why. The. Fuck?
Long story short, he turned out to be not only just as needy as Brian (the last one, MrBrownEye), but also extremely materialistic.
I realize now that I choose needy people for my partners. But why? There’s a part of me that “needs” as much as the others, but there is another part that is independent. She craves solemnity and independence as part of her lifestyle, while all the while needing someone to need who needs her. Confused?
Glenyrd posted something recently about guarding your heart fully so that it’s easier to “return back to normal,” (I am totally paraphrasing so don’t send a hundred inbox messages to me). I’m not sure I fully agree. I enjoy opening my heart to people. Maybe I should do it a little less in the future, however.
But his basic message about not, or trying not, to let love bother him, and just let things happen I think is very sage advice. You’re less likely to feel lonely as you aren’t waiting for anyone, you may focus more on the important things in front of you, and you aren’t losing the precious life moments that are running past your eyeballs.
There is plenty of time to love another human in life. But today I’m just going to do some laundry, walk to my local produce market, go on the internet in search of a job, and talk to some friends. Maybe love will find it’s way in there somewhere.
I do wish to one day find myself loving like in those pictures again. But this time, he’ll be worth it.
It looks like lastoneinthepool asked about final requests and I’m never one to pass up talking about death and plans for my goodbyes. I LOVE thinking about this stuff:
I want to be cremated
I want to be split: Katelyn gets a ¼, my mom gets ¼, Anthony gets a ¼, and ¼ of me dumped in the Chicago river off the Michigan ave Bridge. I want Katelyn to make me into a piece of jewelry. My mom and Anthony can do what they want with me.
At my visitation I want people to LAUGH. Tell the best stories about me.
Play Alexi Murdoch’s Orange Sky at my funeral and read pieces of my poetry. There’s this girl Pam I went to college with and I haven’t seen her in years but I always said I wanted her to speak. And my cousin Mara.
Here: Christine, Tara, and Michele are responsible for my tumblr funeral. I want stories about me, poems, art work. I want a day to remember me. I don’t want my blog deleted.
Ah Nevada………. I mention where I’m from and the first question is always.
“How far from Vegas are you?”
“Is that Bunny Ranch show real?”
“Don’t you live in the desert?”
Did you guys know that Nevada is one of the largest producers of Gold in the world? Did you know that Nevada has the most mountain ranges in the US?
I live in Reno, NV. We are at the base of the Sierra Mountains. We are way north of Las Vegas. The Sierra Mountains does weird weather stuff here. I can’t remember the scientific name for it, but its “???? shadow”. Means it wet on the other side (California) and drier over here (Nevada).
But I digress…….I like to tell this story. I lived in Washington. My dad was in the army, we were stationed in Tacoma. He was transferred to Nevada. Our first year here, we actually watched the 4th of July fireworks while it was snowing.
So snow in May here is not surprising and 90 degree weather in December isn’t either.