Driving on 9

One would think that with all the palindromes it all the world we might find space to add parallel.
Its not that the word doesnt bear a resemblance to its definition. The two twinned “l”s in its dieing syllable mount up and tell us what the damned word….
you know what
Thank you but I will have the meatloaf.
This I believe should be the modern daters mantra.

A: Would you like to see a movie on thursday?
B: Thank you but I will have the meatloaf

A: I wantd to ask you where you think this is going.
B: Thank you but I will have the meatloaf

A: Do I look alright in this?
B: Thank you but I will have the meatloaf

A: You know my friend blob hobbertson has a cousin in town this…
B: Thank you but I will have the meatloaf

what ever. Go make sense of that.

I know this now because I can’t feel this song in my feet. I need stimulation and these speakers just can’t handle the Reverend.
Oh by the way dont ever travel. Its likely you will get in an accident, pay $100 dollars for a cab, get stopped at the boarder, have your camera stolen by a boarder guard, be told flight and driving disaster stories by your half wit canadian cab driver, almost miss your flight, be scared by reports of a grenade at your destination and be ripped off by a livery cab driver. All of that in less then 4 hours. Oh and then the transit workers might go on strike for the week before christmas essentially trapping you in brooklyn. And they will cancel work. And you will think about getting very very dumb tatoos. And you will think you never learned to spell.
If anyone can translate these lyrics into chinese characters or some other such elegant looking exotic hipster looking thing I would appriciate it. Im thinking of getting a tatoo.
At least it would pass the transit striking time.

I’m the baddest of the bad
Since you’ve been gone,
The baddest of the bad,
Since you’ve been gone.

I lay around here
And I just drink beer
The baddest of the bad,
Since you’ve been gone.

Everything is bad including me,
But being bad is good policy,
It protects me from your past,
’till your memory’s gone at last
Everything is bad including me.

Young girls and gin may be the cure,
Young girls and gin may be the cure,
I’m talking just as good as you stay pure,
Young girls and gin may be the cure.

I’m the baddest of the bad
Since you’ve been gone,
The baddest of the bad,
Since you’ve been gone.

I lay around here
And I just drink beer
The baddest of the bad,
Since you’ve been gone.

The baddest of the bad,
Since you’ve been gone.
The baddest of the bad,
Since you’ve been gone.
—Reverend Horton Heat

yes Mom Im joking. Mostly

Let us be clear, the cookies I will now write of are secular. The titling of them with “christmas” is simply a method by which you might in your minds eye ascribe certain qualities to them. They are chock full of all the sweet nut spice sugar lump dough candy color goodness of a litle red wagon.
I will be returning to NY with scores of them.
For two days with my mother as co-conspirator all I have done is baked them.
They are for the most part based on recipes handed over from my grandmother. In the case of at least one cookie the recipe is traceable to my mother’s grandmother.
These are some damn fine cookies.

1 Anise sugar cookies - hand frosted.
2 Kolachkis- hell I spelled it wrong but we are talking sugar and butter and cream chese and nuts. who cares how they are spelled they are the yummiest cookies i know how to bake.
3 date nut pinwheels - dates, nuts, in a pinwheeel shape, if you like dates you will like these cookies
4 chocolate chip- dude……
5 chocolate with peanut butter chip-….. ok some of these just sell themselves.
6 peanuts butter balls- yep that and they are covered in chocolate
7 banberry tarts - ok its black currant jelly but it tastes like the fictitious banberry and its got short bread and almonds
8 ginger bread men- tastes like ginger looks like men. get all your relationship angst out in cookies revenge. oh and they taste all good
9 peanut butter kisses - it took an ad agency to name them but hell sometimes hershey has a good idea. peanut butter cookies with hershey kisses pushed into them. they are very good.

So look if you are in NY hit me up and ask me for some cookies. You are bound to get at least one. Abbas Im coming for you and damn it Im bringing these across the boarder
For the record i will have a finite amount. My mother has the lions share.
If you dont live in NY ask her for some.

From time to time in ones life things happen. If by some strange twist of event they happen with a certain synergy we often ascribe to them the condition of coincidence. It seems that in the hive mind coincidence has in itself come to represent an element of fate. The random co-inciding of two things joins together these things in the psyche and like the entrails of a coincidentally unlucky bird seems to steer our mind towards fair or foul. I don’t believe in it. I think there is hapenstance. Coincidence allows our thoughts and meanderings too much power over the world that works irrespective of us. If I stop today the world will go on. If I die today the world will go on. To imagine that my taking the trash to the corner and crossing paths with my attractive neighbor involves coincidence and some go ahead or attaboy from the mechanations of the omniverse is to join in a level of self delusion unhealthy to honest living.
Shooting stars on the other hand, those work.

it snowed. this is perhaps the least useful weather report ever posted as a blog. it snowed on a sunday in NY. welcome to complete and utter uselessness of information.

Have I told you how great my new phone is? I mean its got bells on its whistles and shiny on every button. It chimes it films it scores sections of my life. I love my phone. Its all the things I wish I could do with out my phone. It makes me telepathic. It lets me have pictures to tell others what I am thinking. It plays music so I dont have to sing. It records video so I dont have to tell stories. It compartmentalizes all aspects of me into a functional unit that others can comprehend. Anything that doesnt fit in is discarded. Anything outside its understanding isnt worth other peoples time anyway. Its got an alarm clock and thats neat. It has a calendar that doesnt work but i never really was one for calendars anyway so the bad calendar makes me feel closer to the phone. Some sort of commonality.
Its so nice.
I think maybe Ill buy another one just so it feels ok. I would hate for it to die of the lonely. Oh it won’t get lonely as long as it feels fufilled. Shit. I mean what if I dont get enough calls. It is imperative that I maintain a certain level of social contact just to fufill my phones purpose. I must not let it languish unused. It can not through its tether to me be allowed in the house of Bobo. No headless clown of existential angst for my phone. It must be allowed to fly. FLY FREE ROKR. FLY FREE!!!!!

Trip to fam. Come on ye conspiracy seekers! Trip To Fam!!!! tryptophan? Who in there right mind hasnt laughed out loud at LEVITRA and yet we willingly gobble up (ouch) tryptophan. We just get bored with “home for the holidays”. Perhaps Im wrong. Maybe there is some sleep protein deep with in that stupid bird. If there is they(the man and his helpers) are currently seeding the air with it in NYC. Everyone is on an extended left over nap. Wake up! Stop eating that damnable cranberry shit. I know what its like. I have been there. I understand the inertial loss yesterdays food can present. Its an experiment in relative time. Thursday we ate all day and did little else. The food is infected with that carpe somnus spice god has put inside turkey. Chronotope? Thats my new word this week. I got all schooled about it over a bottle of Jaeger. Chronotope. Its the sense of time and space. Generally its historical. The sense of time and space in ancient roman society for example. But I think your left over turkey is some post modern signifier of the family holiday chronotope. You are put into that mode of small table. Its not christmas when you were gifted. Its that one with the little chairs and the aunt who you dont know and that damned thing of potatoes. It is interminably long. It is before you realise the delicateness of other people. Of yourself. It is that time when you are arrogant enough not to appriciate those around you. I cant say I had that holiday this year. It was lovely. Pleanty of wonderful people about. Friends family wine. But the next day turkey still holds that goddamn sonambulic chronotope of do nothing. Nothing. Got over it. Get out. And call my ass before I try to eat any more of it.