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By dark nowhere (Sun Oct 12, 2008 at 01:48:09 PM EST) (all tags)
At this very moment, I'm eating (quite by accident) an approximation of an Acadian dish. I forget the name of the dish, but mine has potatoes, butter, turkey, gravy, spices and is composed of leftovers. The real dish is far greasier.


An interesting note about the gravy - it was made by experimentation (not mine, for once, but someone else's.) To it was added soya sauce and tandoori spice, then coriander (my idea) because too much soya sauce made it too salty. The coriander doesn't make it any less salty, but keeps the saltiness from lingering in the mouth. It worked well.


So of course I had gone out for a smoke at some point. As had just about everyone in the neighborhood--not the same smoke, though. Mine was a cigarette. Theirs was enough incense to make the air available to the whole block smell like a catholic church on some holy day.

At first I was afraid the building was on fire, since no one had seemed to notice (but me) and the smell made me think of some dense wood burning.



While I eat leftovers (actually, I'm finished eating) I'm drinking. Some orange liqueur and bacardi mixed into cranberry juice--i.e. whatever was in the fridge (which would be scotch and not in the fridge if it weren't for the occasion demanding company.) The result is a drink that exactly tastes just like cranberry but with the remaining character of orange. It seems wrong because so natural.


Oh and I had a stupid dream. As usual it piled absurdity upon absurdity upon a foundation of psychic detritus that Freud and Jung could argue over for years. In the end, though, when it got too insane to allow any further suspension of disbelief, rather than just waking up as I usually do, I had enough time to pause and think to myself: I'm tripping balls. Then speculate that I was probably dreaming but that still didn't cover it. Reason was forming on the edges as I considered all possible causes. I must have been going alphabetically because the ones I remember ruling out as I woke up were 'stroke' and 'syphilis, tertiary'.


Now a couple of complaints. First, they're still burning that damned incense. It's getting stale and making me sneeze.

There is an undisciplined dog living nearby. Skunks, too. I don't mind the smell of a skunk. I do mind the smell of a thing sprayed by a skunk. It's strong and rancid and gives me the worst kind of headache, barring a migraine.

Finally my internet service is utter shite. Before I moved I had the delicious pleasure of a 15 megabit link, and that's common where I was. 8-10 was acceptable, but anything less was considered a pittance. I'm getting effectively, 2 megabits out of this link--when it actually works. The whole thing goes down for 5 minutes at a time for no apparent reason. What's worse is the phone cuts out at the same time because it's going over cable too and the problem must be somehow physical.

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