I have the raunchiest rap on right now.
Arguments for days and we go like 2 weeks without
And it seems too suspicious
To be this simply happy.

I remember the 3 weeks we never fought and suddenly every man I’ve ever loved
Is hugging my ankles under my desk
And 3 sitting behind me.
They call me “tiny and small” not short.
Better than fat ass bitch to fat fuck
That I’ve experienced in regularity.
Les us not forget the fat bitch
That is really just in gains season.

I’m skinnier than every girl I went to highschool with in 60 years time.
6xtimes in those 60 years.
I had many many kids.
19, myself.
[imagine the counts on the donor eggs..]
And no one knew I birthed them even if I gave them galactic stardust
And I think the youngest that got told
Was after drunken encounters and like the second time I got to meet them.
Standard back in the day for raped-nuns.
[sad to say; in the 50s this would’ve been common knowledge learned from Crimes in Your Area ~~Hour.]
I didn’t get to hold the baby, I didn’t name them, I didn’t know their gender, and I had no idea who they grew up to be.

Great Friends. Later.
Imagine, how their fathers must feel.

And people act like I’m not allowed to care about those kids and people
That raised me in sainthood.
“It takes a village.”
And sometimes those village elders get tiny.
And I’m shrinking.
And my feet have been swollen whether I do 200 steps or 6000.
Everyday.

What other priorities do I have?
Caramelizing the amarillo onions you got me out of St. Augustine.
Kind fermenty and pruny in taste without a cook.
Too sweet and slimy for ceviche.
Ur getting pan ribs and elk shumai and edamame.
I will not cook rice.

Tis a party platter o appetizer.
I want da meats.

And that’s how you find resolution every 3 weeks.
In a life of love.
I don’t care about marriage, it never was for me and isn’t for me.
{subtle panic attack from my dear love behind me}
Not a protestant, but at least a good 3rd person objective to how are people treating you as a person.
And how are people treating you in your faith?
I can do that too from the other side.

Garlic I just really old onion stems.
Grown into another bulb.
Hardens and softens and cures for many Millenia
Then regulated to be grown.

In Italy, we always cooked more garlic.
Takes less time for onions.
And we got lots of garlic.
You have lors of onions, Irishmen.
But no garlic.

Together, we got bulbs.
And that’s a whole lot of ideas.
[Of why we can’t get along, most of the time.]
It’s not can’t.
Just haven’t talked about it.
Suppose that’s on the list to getting around to, huh?

Well,
Us deaf people
Don’t mind a written manuscript of your feelings in prose.
So I write this on my phone instead.

Looking away, cooking by smell.
I toasted the rice so it’d be extra special.
Reduced Ribs.
Now that’s funny.

And we discuss trends in component manufacture fabrication.
Every time I give myself I little time
To breathe right.
Wash my skin and let my hair breathe.

I wear it down more now.
And side parted.
And I hop on the bed of the cathedral
Mirror facing
And avoid the lengthy Longview
Or one for actual beauty and self-care
And I usually do my brows there.

Other commitments and genuinity.
I think a stray from purple + pink only hair leave-in spray would be nice.

[argan is always aqua blue!! ☺️😌⛹🏻‍♀️🧘🏻‍♀️☔] {Morroco Tangit Bit 🤞🏼} +++

People never talk about the Food Scientist part.
And why we truly love snacks.
(make em immortal for 5 years after the expiration)

Like honey.
The chemical anthithesisaean of
Those noodles.
You can’t quit.
And I gave em up already.
Even if they came from my culture.
Soft wits.

—

***

[moments later after opening the front door. o woof. I expected this, that’s why I started before I couldn’t be stopped in the cookery process.]
And I’ve been yelled at and I opened the door and I’m the mean person and I get called fat ass
As if it were a
Premonition
And tell you galactic and unholier truths.
And the ed.ucated. sits behind me.
Silence in All My Blindness.

I’ll handle it.
Mad Dog, me again.
My sort are raised to be devils.

No time to back down,
I’m not undercover.
Represent, Sam.
And I do it well.

And I scare the hell out of you in all your crime + sin.

Go without for awhile, you glut.

I gotta eat too.
Cancer fast. You’re treating an elderly woman and the matriarch with terminal brain cancer
So poorly
And trying to decimate me into 6 years old.
Only allowed half a carrot or half a apple a day.
Expecting blood in my mouth
Bc
“U NOT ALLOWED IN PANTRY.”
Well I wish I could say that to other cabinet members on this street.

The windows are open. They hear everything.
And there’s always cars on the road.
It’s like you’ve been heard, watched, and recorded.
I’m stationed here.

Otherwise, you are excess.

Find fascination in that as I dont.
-disgruntled land lord not receiving rent but vigs of elk.

It’s like Utah just took a shit in here and called it Japanese Dinner.
They prefer Asian for the Holidays now, the food.

The Secret Korean-Japanese Sam wins Superior indeed.
The ribs smell mighty tasty before I even put them in the oven.
And someone else was cooking ribs before I was!!
I smelled it when I opened the window.

[wouldn’t let you light the grill?

I’ll cook some another style for you ☺️
Just a trip to the kitchen. Cast Iron, stove and downtime in the oven to get em’ tender.

Nice. 😄]] … . . . . .. . .    .