Peanuts

Apparently Thomas is as apathetic as me today, or so I assume since I haven't heard from him. Sometimes when I am alone and miserable I like to pretend that the rest of the world is shitting on itself too.

It has been raining for about 24 hours now, and "hulu" has been my only friend for the evening. I am going to recycle this recipe since I feel it best describes my sullen mood as well as my diet for the day, and perhaps even my psychiatric condition . I can only hope that other humans experience this condition of wallowing in self pity, but feel free to look down on me in disgust if you see fit. You certainly disgust me.

Eat them. If they have shells, take the shells off. Then eat them. This also applies to other various nuts.

Homeless Knots

It's still raining, and at this point I have given up hope of ever seeing the sun again. I have pretty much been reduced to a routine of hulu, snacks, reading, and tinkering around with some songs I have been working on. It has been pretty depressing spending all of this time indoors. It's getting lonely here.

At least if it were sunny I could go down to the bodega and strike up a conversation with some bum, maybe even get into a pissing contest. There would probably even be some girls out walking their dogs. I don't even bother talking to them if they aren't with a dog. I'd just end up making myself out to be a creeper. The dog saves me from this, at least for a few moments/ it's more of a game of how many pets I can get in before I say something awkward and receive the 'get away from me creeper' signal. It might be the bum she sees me hanging out with too, who knows. What's so bad about bums? They really are just regular alcoholics with TB who haven't showered in god knows how long. So what if they don't live in a trailer park? Just imagine how many pints of vodka you could get for a trailer! Is it really that far of a step down to go from living in a trailer to under a bridge?

I have been getting back to my normal dreams about gypsy attacks and carnival oddities, which has also been making sleep less than comfortable. Perhaps I need to get out of my own head and pull myself together... I wonder what happened to my Irish dream-girl. I bet she has a dog.

I didn't actually make pretzels today, but it is a good activity if its too rainy and cold to go catch TB from a bum, or scare some girl and her dog.


Pretzels:

Ingredients:
16 c flour
6 water
1 c brown sugar
4 T yeast
1 T kosher salt
melted butter

Combine yeast, salt and brown sugar in 6 c warm water. Combine with flour and knead about 10 min adding water and flour as needed. Throw in a greased trash bag and tie it up. Leave it in your baby's carriage until the dough doubles in size, or engulfs the child. Roll the dough into about 30 reg sized pretzels or 1 large pretzel.

Blanche the pretzels in water until they float. Then, move them to a greased baking sheet and brush with butter. Sprinkle with sea salt and bake at 350F. Check at 15 min and continue to cook until done.

Bachensteinerwhich

I didn't sleep again last night, although I woke up lost in a dream. For a change though, I didn't wake up in sweats looking for tattoos and razor scars left by gypsies. It was actually quite sexy, mostly sensual but altogether uplifting. What a nice change of pace!

It was warm, yet dreary, the kind of day that reminds me of the way spring smells in the city. The smell reminds me of a high school locker room. Dirty gym socks and rank ass teenagers. The build up of frozen city sludge beginning to thaw and rot might as well be equally pleasant. Couple it with bum piss and the wafting raw sewage from some exposed pipes at a nearby construction site and you have something to look forward to.

I ended up at a local cheese shop looking for something that might compliment the sensuality of my morning fantasy, yet might also be threateningly reminiscent of the smell that greeted me as I stepped off the bus downtown.

I found what I was looking for rather quickly. I could see the orange rind through the window, and the clerk's grin let me know that she was looking for a distasteful reaction as I brought the sample that she sliced for me to my nose.

The cutie in my fantasy was undoubtedly Irish, although I have never been with an Irish woman. I unfortunately don't smell in my dreams, but I am sure I would have never slept with her if her scent even remotely resembled the odor coming from this cheese. The cheese itself was Austrian, aparently from an atrisan dairy in Sibratsgfäll, and smelled almost identical to fermenting gym socks. The texture however was delightfully creamy in an almost sensual way. I embraced it and let it melt, much like my Irish dream girl. I don't taste in my dreams either, but I am going to assume that she spent some time roaming with dairy cows in an Austrian forest.



Bachensteinerwhich:

Stinky German style soft cheese
Sliced sweet onions
Grain mustard
Jew bread (rye, not matzo)

Thomas toast

I was out of insulin for a few days. The doctor, upon my having enough cash to see him, lectured me on the importance of seeing a specialist and not procrastinating with diabetic related issues. Kidney failure and all of this...


Thomas Toast

Ingredients:

Two slices of cold white bread
One slice of bologna
One slice of provolone cheese
One egg

Over-microwave the egg sunny side up (about 2 mins.)
Peice together just as you would any other sandwich.
Enjoy with malt liquor.