Made a Southwestern corn pudding. There’s no picture here because I’m ashamed of it.
Sadness is like a bad restaurant that’s always open.
I have to continually tell myself: “stock up the happy fridge”. “Put things in it that you value… like exercise, friendship, a full calendar of shows” etc. Otherwise, I lose myself. And then smash-cut to me, at that shitty diner, eating that same shitty sadness sandwich at 2am.
Last time we had the Wu-Tang Clan’s Masta Killa and Andrew WK. Tonight, we go DOUBLE MARNIE:
We call them phones but I haven’t made a call on this thing in 2 years. Let’s call them what they are: binkies.
“I’m playing the long game.” (- long jumper)
“Tough cloud.” (- Stand-up comic in heaven)