Fuk. That is fucked up even for me. Euthanasia by sugarcane juice.
fkfkfkfkfkfkfk. Can you imagine that? Oh Kro, you really need to see someone. Or someTHING with medicinal properties.
You mean like a joint? Sure. Why not.
Reminds me of the time I was lying down on the floor of this guy’s house, dreaming Chinese dreams. Chinese dreams, as everyone knows, are the dreams where you require subtitles to understand just what the fuck is going on. And because it is a shitty chinese DVD, the subtitles are actually in Dutch so you basically still have no fukin clue what is going on.
Anyway, so I was thinking about the words “Only once” and I realised that they are quite powerful words no? And then I was thinking about the things I would do “only once” and the food I would eat “only once”. I mean, if you think about it, that is a fucking a-grade special moment right there. The first (and last) time you are doing something. So precious almost.
One of the (gazillion) reasons I love food is because it lends itself to the written word oh so beautifully. I think a lot of things/experiences are now expressed via sounds and movies and photographs but food remains strongly tied down to prose. Reading about food can be such a delightful journey. And so much depends on the words you use.
So you can write about the dark, slightly crunchy and thinly fried layer of skin which you peel off with your teeth. Or the words could be about the fluffy, soft, steaming tatte idlis that have to be dunked into this smoky, warm sambar. Hell, you could even write about crunchy cold lettuce going all “puch kuch” in your mouth as it wraps itself around the slices of turkey.
What about the soft, yet firm, strands of spaghetti that have barely danced (just brushed through actually) the rich, flavourful marinara and are now being twirled around your fork?
I ate an entire box of sweets today. Am feeling massive sick.
Also, much happiness: