Beck - Odelay - Sissyneck
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I was told they were easy, and for some reason it made me uneasy. but it wasn’t until the next day that I tossed my guts directly into the toilet. Well most of it anyway. there was a bit of clean up to be done. It could have been what she said about things being so easy, or my thoughts about what that actually meant, or the fact that I got fucked up on having a good time, or maybe I shouldn’t have been drinking considering that I had been in bed for 17 hours trying to get the sick out of me. my first breathe of chicago on the rocks was at 830pm. the cold dry air gave me an immediate buzz. clean oxygen. inhale. cough a lung up, cough a lung up. sigh. back inside. the last time i had to think about ironing a shirt, no idea. attention to detail, they’ll be watching. a spritz on the wrist, for the hugs, a dab behind the ears for their whispers. everyone in the comfort of their bubbles will be watching, shifting and trading glances as they toss their heads back for the ole sip and scan of the room to see who they might have missed. it’s easy, and I knew this, i mean i know this. It fucks with my stomach knowing that it’s easy. It reminds that I really don’t like fast food all that much. I eat it out of necessity. you know so I don’t kill the person riding with me at the time. being hungry sucks. being angry sucks. being hangry, forget-about-it. a home cooked meal is much better, leftovers are okay, and the whole process of deciding what to eat… crossing off the options…. do you want the cheap shit or the good shit for this? how much do you make? do you measure properly or go with your gut? go with your gut. the smell that fills the air, the moisture that steams up the windows and lets your neighbors know that love is happening right now and it has been working hard all day. you taste test and burn your tongue a little because of your haste. you stir. you wait. you watch. you wait. you wait. smile and wait. for some you let it sit and cool. it gets juicier that way. it melts in your mouth better that way. you wait for it. then you share that shit. the food. its nurturing. it nurtures. and the aftertaste, one engineered by your hands doesn’t go unrecognized. it lingers on the tips of all your taste buds, even the ones in your mind. then you dream about it, maybe. but you definitely daydream about it. You’re reminded that fast food isn’t good for you and that neither are cigarettes. everything in moderation, moderation in moderation, too much sometimes is okay, not enough sometimes is just enough, bacon goes good on moderation. It’s been three days and I still wish I hadn’t been reminded about how easy it can be. but i forget that it’s just preference. you’ll find me in the kitchen. // fox gloves.