as in, to swing.

Above: me on my second night in Phoenix last month, in my room watching Lost in Translation on Netflix at 4:21am (tiny red numbers on alarm clock in back left), when onscreen Bill Murray is lying awake in his Tokyo hotel room also at 4:20am. Yes, it took me too long to find my camera in the dark to get us both with our clocks at 4:20am in the picture, thanks for pointing that out. And no I didn't then give up on sleeping and go have a drink and smoke cigarettes with Scarlett Johansson in a ritzy bar downstairs. I probably did go have a drink and go smoke a cigarette though, cause it sounded way better than any other option. Needless to say this is a voice that should not be listened to.


Since my get-your-shit-together insomnia/life manifesto was only delivered yesterday (and only the first installment mind you), and this is only my second night in Amsterdam after a month in America, I'll try, try, try not to beat myself up too too badly for being up at 4:21am not having solved the "what is the most productive thing for me to be doing right now" question (I was asleep by midnight, btw).

Productive or at least non-destructive elements of what I'm doing right now at 4:21am include: no eating; no alcohol; no marijuana. I am, however, on the computer, which is not really the plan of record. I need a big slow book that doesn't evoke any triggery emotions in me, some chamomile tea, and a woolly blanket, all of which sounds boring as shit, but this is very much a work in progress.


For the last hour, instead of playing book blanket bingo I've been trawling Serious Eats, my go-to late-night food porn distractionizer that I've been using at just these sorts of moments for years now. It is essentially porn, but a porn that feeds back into something marginally creative, so I feel less despicable and pointless about it than I might if I ever, you know...used the real thing.

For example, seeing this entry on vegan bao gives us a couple new bao directions to play with, that is if we can ever stop eating these fucking Momofuku English muffins long enough to get excited about any other carbohydrate. Fuuuck, these muffins are something else. The smell as they're toasting!!!! Then when you add butter!!!! Ahhhh (hangs head, slumps shoulders). I completely understand why Mara made 60 of them, we just need to do a better job giving them away sooner next time. Or do we. I feel like Gollem and The Ring. I took pictures of them for you with the Olympus, but...no. The pictures aren't what I'd call informative.

Flipping through the well-thumbed slideshows and centerfolds of SE always tickles my orange cheese fetish a bit, and reminds me that I somehow either forgot or failed to properly photograph two of the best things I put in my mouth in Arizona. The first was an Aidell's Smoked Chicken and Apple Sausage, covered with with a melted and bubbly thick-cut slice of Land O'Lakes' extra sharp cheddar, topped with a handful of crisp, chopped sweet Vidalia onions and a shot of Stubb's Spicy Barbecue sauce, my favorite BBQ sauce cause it ain't got no BS in it. I had this for breakfast a few times. Possibly four.

Somehow I was always in too much of a hurry to consume this thing, or I kept thinking "oh there'll be a next time, there were six or eight in the package", we have no photo. Instead we have a picture of my dear mother and her sweet dog Lulu.


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