today was one of those 3 city days that we’ve all heard so much about.
woke up in boston. flew to philadelphia. took the train to d.c.
and my feet hurt. and i have no idea why. all i do all day is sit around and talk about myself, so how can my feet hurt?
am i subconciously flexing and un-flexing my feet all day? is some primordial urge kicking in where in my subconcious psyche i’m sprinting over the savannah being chased by wildebeasts?
or is ‘wildebeast’ one of those singular/plural words? like sheep?
and can i end every sentence in this update with a question mark?
i could. but i’m tired. and i haven’t the patience for such pithiness. putting an ‘s’ at the end of a word that is usually the same both singular/plural is always good for a little comedy. i.e-sheeps. fishes. deers.
we just got off of the train (acela, looks like a bad hyundai. billions of dollars of tax-payers money to design a train that looks like a fucking hyundai. no, i don’t feel annoyed, do you?) and now it’s midnight and we all know what that means: more interviews.
ok, soy products play a very prominent role in my life. soy milk, tofu, tempeh, tvp, etc. but ‘soy butter’ sounds disgusting to me. i’ve never tried it and i never will. i’ve decided to become less open minded in my old age. the first step will be a categorical refusal to ever try ‘soy butter’.
this one in front of me says ‘soynut butter’. since when is soy a nut? that’s like saying ‘chickenfruit jelly’.
ok, time for some late-nite narcissism.
-moby