yes, ruzz is doing recipes. settle.

1 tsp olive oil
1/4 c cooking sherry
1/2 onion, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced (very small)
1/2 c chopped red bell pepper
4 c fresh or canned plum tomatos
1 c vegetable broth
1/2 c orzo
1 - 1 1/2 tbsp dried basil - start with 1 tbsp and go to taste
1/2 tsp of pepper

1. Heat deep skillet or pot to high-medium heat
2. Add oil, allow to warm to shimmer
3. add onion, garlic, bell pepper, sherry
4. Sautee till very soft
5. Add tomatoes & broth bring to boil
6. simmer for 7 mins (not boil, simmer!)
7. add orzo and simmer 10-13 more mins till orzo is soft.
8. mix in basil and pepper to taste.

fuckin serve it up!

notes:

1. don’t over do the red pepper.
2. the smaller the cut of onion and garlic the better.
3. maybe even crushed garlic rather than minced.
4. basil is the kick!

i find it hard to keep my attention on any one thing these days.

maybe it’s part of the aging process. or my recent illness, or the superbug. or the mind crushing pressure that’s building. or the nagging feeling something is seriously wrong with the direction i’m going.

maybe it’s some of all of the above.

either way, I can’t seem to focus. can’t seem to commit & the cost of that behavior.. well. fuck.

moreover, i think this is one of the steps which precedes the portion of your life where your sleep gets disrupted by three hot drunk chicks and you’re actually.. upset about it.

god. i hope it’s not that serious.

x = doug.

ps. the picture is unrelated, just felt like including one.

once i wanted to be the greatest.

been some time since we’ve been here together. you & i, all late night and full of a certain unwavering grace. and still, here we are–be we (or the unwavering grace) genuine or simulacra. pay it no mind at all. after all when you close your eyes it could be anyone giving you head.

run with it.

i come here today to give praise to modernity. not the idea, or it’s misconceptions, mind you. rather the alter of modernity which i suppose would be progress. we all have faith in progress and it is that i come praise today.

I feel i ought give praise if for nothing else than teaching some young frenchman how to insert a chest tube and less sexily all the myriad of supporting roles and implements that kept me alive through the great empyema of ought-seven. because, and think this out fully, after that event i can say with certainty that without modern medicine (and clean shaven frenchmen, i spose) that i would have perished. I have officially left my psuedo-normal life course and entered into a gift from medical progress.

it could be argued, badly, that immunization takes us wildly off the planned course–and if i were 70 that argument might apply but i’m not and historically many lived to my current age even without immunization (and, god forbid–Canadian Healthcare). so like i said argued badly.

the crux of this being, of course, that i know with as much certainty as i can that had science (dressed in silly medical garb) not intervened i would have ceased to exist.

and i figure i owe science a big french kiss.

(possibly more depending on if i actually use the extended life for anything more than being tempted by young girls in tight clothing)

(young being a relative term naturally. falling well within the age appropriate taboos and pseudo-fantasies daily provided me by our conventional media, after all a thirty year old girl in pig tails and knee socks isn’t telling us anything about ourselves as a species–okay, fuck, gender then. because women never have such banal thoughts–but i digress.)

and it is with humble heart that i thank the big hairy beast that pollutes my water, soil and air. that kindly mind-giant that entraps me in a tangle of wire and concrete, quickly consuming everything (refactoring) everything it gets its hands on. yes. thank you old beast and thank you to the nazi’s who so clearly don’t get the props they deserve for pushing science forward 30 years–albeit under rather.. questionable terms.

do i mean that or am i testing to see who is still reading this far down by being wilfully inflammatory? you can’t say for sure, but if you’re jewish i think you can still scold me and call me inhuman.

posthuman.

post hymen.

i clearly have not improved my ability to stay on topic.

the verdict today then, was one of muffled optimism. a sweet unidentifiable pocket of goodness remains but seems disinterested in infecting and killing me. so for now it gets to remain there. so my favorite frenchman says.

and my left lung is smaller than judekyle’s penis now. the doc says it will never get back to full size (both his penis and my lung) but that it could be worse.

spoken by someone with two normally sized lungs, i say.

i wasn’t using that 15% of lung anyways. honestly. how much air do i need to sit on my ass all day long?

& yet men covet virgins.

now that we have that bit of cleverness out of the way..

I will lay some insight on you after all. nearly dying is scary. really fucking scary. you can put pec implants on it and dress it in camo, mannin’ it up all you like–but at the heart of things when you share that one moment all humans share at some point (and often more than once) of a real intake of the idea “hey, i’m seriously at risk of not existing” it kinda knocks the wind out of you.

cliche, whatever.

so for the last week, since i went off my antibiotics what’s eating me up is having no idea what might or might not be gathering in my chest cavity. having being around for the draining of 16 litres of full frontal bacterial attack the last time I guess maybe I am over-aware of the possibility of it happening again.

in a few days i go to see the surgeon and he will decide if anything of the infection remains, but in the interim i’m sitting here wondering–without the protective armor of broad spectrum antibiotics, you know?

so maybe i’m a bit freaked out. maybe i’m sensitive about being over-run and digested from the inside out. maybe every ache and pain in that general area reminds me i could be a big strep stew, and maybe that’s fuckin with my head.

maybe i feel like i can’t really make plans till i know what’s going on in there.

like it’s all conjecture up till then.

like i could go in and he could say it’s growing and i could be back in hospital with another fucking chest tube. or, worse he could want to operate to clean it out.

or it could be nothing, it could be dead and gone. healed and right. i just find my mind doesn’t tend to dwell on the possible good outcomes..

finishing that thought.. it’s my thinking, having looked up some old friends on facebook that facebook is bar none the greatest tool of propaganda ever devised. it’s like the best propaganda idea the nazi’s ever had but taken to a whole new level by personalizing it and containing it all together in one place. like a repository of fakeness and psuedo-identity.

brilliant. i’m surprised judekyle hasn’t chimed in about this, big fucking brain that he is.