Sometimes, I eat this. It’s kind of a cure-all for what ails ya. Firstly, no effort, SECONDLY, it’s protein and chile, and it comes in a can (which has it’s own kind of gauche appeal, I think). Frankly, I ate this the morning after a booze-fuelled 9-tier cake construction and I think it was justly deserved. You should try it! Except, possibly with sriracha instead, because that stuff is better, better than most things, I really do think they crumble up spice-fairies inside of that stuff, because otherwise I can’t explain it’s magical ability to make things taste like a pavlovian reaction of LURBE. Lurve. Love. You know what I mean.
See, well, I bought it in Taiwan (rations, clearly), and forgot it in my bag. And then I came back to Montreal and somehow left it in a box at a friends house for about a month, and upon coming upon it again… well, it .. was…. okay? So Strange!!!! No blemishes, no smell, nothing to indicate that it was less than perfect. Somehow I’d be inclined to blame the elusive zen-spirit of asia, but really it came from Australia, so maybe they have zen spirit too. Or, at the very least, spirit of orange-maintain. Well played Aussies, well-played……
And this is just, well, a book of Buddha. Inside of an orange. I mean an egg. I mean an orangutan/g).. I DO!!! Mean that, I mean.
Okay, so actually I was teaching my brother how to make pumpkin pie from scratch (he was REAL emphatic about doing it the hard way too – pumpkin roasted and pureed from a veggie into a pie filling, nevermind the fact that it wasn’t a sugar pumpkin but a giant carving version. You know, the kind that has no flavour but smashes kinda nice when yer young and belligerant and okay I never did this but I can imagine the sentiment and it makes for a transporting kind of transcription of an otherwise semi-boring gourd-fruit.)
Right! well, it seemed poetic and pretty much yes it is. come to ye own conclusions my frenz, buddhas from eggs and which came first and all and all and all…..
that is all.