Monday, March 19, 2007

in which i make three different salsas

hey random friends who read my blog, i just wanted to reassure you that i still have happy moments sometimes! like tonight, when i just ate the best nachos of my life and now i tinker around the edges of my research proposal listening to the housemates and E playing mahjong in the living room.

Three different salsas! One fresh tomato, mint and lime. A peanut, coriander and yellow tomato concoction and the third, a roasted tomatillo, garlic and chilli extravaganza. and maybe best of all, the tomatoes, mint, chillies, garlic and tomatillos all came from my very own garden.

ok, now i'm going to go eat cookies and cream ice cream.

Friday, March 09, 2007

kill kill kill

it's not so far into the year but already, if i could use three words to describe how i feel now and in contemplation of the rest of the year i would say, 'very very tired'. Yes, i would squander one of my words by repeating it, but i figure it's not really squandering because the repetition of the word is productive of something i suppose. a sense of the excruciating boredom of continuing to do work that is meaningless maybe. of feeling at sea with school-world. the grind of meetings....

the gnawing hatred of socialist alternative that erupts into outright hostility and a predilection for violence on Fridays where they have taken to displaying donation buckets at the vigil crd organises. Not only that, but they've also taken to 'marking' each of the CRD people handing out vigil leaflets by some magazine wielding robo-trot teenager. Today one of their stupid little recruits tried to chat up D... 'So how did you get involved in the campaign.' Funny, cause i'd been on the verge of marching over to him and saying, 'So when did you give up the faculty for independent thought?'

Donations, my arse. I want to march over and shove their stupid buckets over their heads, press hard until they are crushed into a soggy mush on the ground, scrape them into the bucket and offer that as a bloody 'donation' to their fucking cult. The delusions of people who refer to their pissy two-bit hierarchy of an organisation as 'the power' would be hilarious if only they weren't such a parasitic pestilence, eating the fucking heart out of the genuine left who actually get involved in campaigns.