So last night Paul and I went with some friends to Divan in Buckhead… Not Bankhead, though I still felt robbed by the time the night was over… really, I need to carry more cash.
Anyway, Divan surves Turkish food and it’s also a fuckin’ awesome place to toke upon ones hookah.
No, seriously this time, there were hookahs.
For real, though.
Paul almost glutted himself on hummus and I had the best dolmah I’ve ever tasted this side of the Mississippi. The whole experiance made me miss home, though.
Not that there were many nifty 1950s style house-cum-Turkish Resturants in the Houston area but the whole experiance reminded me of the Puppy boys and going to hang out at smoke bars after making pigs of ourselves at Niko Nikos.
Also, I was the only one who didn’t smoke. Nothing new, I’m usually the partypooper.
About poopin’ parties, I’m staring a new dog walking gig this next week. Awesome, says me. Also also… I forgot to pay my phone bill. I hope I’m still connected.
I need a personal assistant or something, to remind me of all this shit.
I mean seriously. I get off on feeling all connected and responsible… for like 8 months, and then I’m all “FUCK this shit never ENDS!!” and start slipping up.
Lets talk about something else.
Like Truffles.
I love me some truffles. they’re like cheesecake everyday.
Guilty pleasures dusted lightly with bitter cocoa. Yum.
We bought some truffles by “Jaqout” and my GOD are they good. One of the things I’m learning all over again is “Price don’t make right” all the time. However I’m thinking that in this case it does.
Also, Japanese chocolate is FUCKING AMAZING. I just thought I’d throw that out to you. Just incase you’re wondering… BB loves her glasses. She’s so cute in her little pink eye-helpers, Bboy is doing WONDERFUL in his new class, part of me is all sad and junk over the fact that school will be over in a few weeks. Ke is so small for his age, he’s height/weight proportionate but he’s only in the 15% for his age. (His head is in the 25% though, I blame Paul and his big head for that statistic.) No matter how teensy Ke is, he’s still rocks with his socks off.
sho’ nuff.
Just a moment ago I was babbling mindlessly at Paul about the Say Anything concert we’d gone to and somehow conversation got around to how I affect Paul and how he thinks people see me.
If frightens me a bit, if he’s right. I mean I’m nothing. No goddess, no feral warrior, fuck I’m not even Randall to anyone’s Dante anymore.
…never the less it makes me pleased, too pleased, to think he sees me in this brazen and adoring light.
I mean, for a moment I wanted to … I don’t know… accept homage… and then I wanted to throw up.
Ah me, I’m never happy.
Living in this land locked brg of atlanta is SO FUCKING DEPRESSING.
How do people do it?
Live so far away from open water? Never feel the touch of salt on the air, never taste the ocean, never see water that has nothing better to do than to slowly chew away at the shore?
I need a vacation. I need the sea.
About sea… Supposedly there’s a whole underground sea under asia! I want to see something like this before I die.
A whole ocean under ground. I wonder if there are tides and currents and climates. What lives in there? Utter darkness with nothing but the sound of lapping waves. It sounds peaceful, but then my mind throws up the image of a lantern fish the size of rhode island and all peace runs screaming for cover.
I found a hatchett today, it’s under the bed. So if’n anyone wants to go and do something violent while I’m holed up in my bedroom, please… don’t wear anything too thick, this hatchett is kinda dull. I’d hate to spend more than 20 minutes hacking away at you.
thanks.
Anyway, forgot whatelse I was gonna chatter on about. Goodnight and don’t do anything insipid with your income tax return.
a Clockwork Rabbit 