just before closing time, late tuesday night. 10:45. a truck pulls up behind the pizza hut, dropping off a load of provisions. tomorrow is buffet night. buffet night saves the pizza hut. all day wednesday, the workers will work for the buffet. the truck drops a heaping load of frozen meats and cheeses, doughs and sauces. from the warehouse. from the factory. from hq. much prep must be prepped.
buffet night is from 5-8. maybe at 7:30 or so they can slow down stop making pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza pizza. maybe at 7:15 or so, a few couples will walk in, some on purpose for the buffet, some on accident with a surprised delight. "oh, there's a buffet! well, allright!" but at 5:00 there's a queue of families waiting for the first pies to hit the hot line. 5:00 on the button, three hours to go. feeding frenzy for family, fat family fun, food food food!!! the pies come out at about 5:06. late. bad workers, bad. MAHMEEE I DON'T LIKE SALAD tension in those minutes, kids struggling with layers, coats boots hats gloves scarves sweaters all over the floor, musical chairs, the boxed in (trough?) kid has to pee all the time, relentless movement, lines and lineups and grabbing plates more foooooooooood and pepsi bottomless pepsi all around. shhhhhhh--- the pizza's coming out. go on, don't be shy, let the festivities begin. chemically enhanced sauce on tables chairs kiddy shirts mouths mouths mouths everywhere stuffing it and stuffing it and stuffing it again. line up sit down eat eat eat. line up sit down eat eat eat. the chatter and clatter of platters gets madder and madder, pudge of the patriarch, marmalade matriarch, roly, poly, insatiable, and max run yes run up to the hot plates. they can barely wait. get another pepsi, junior, so you won't get thirsty in the car.
buffet night saves the pizza hut. fat family, full, leave so happy, since they got it all at such a good price.

i fear i am becoming a nasty mean old witch. winter doth work strange poison. who stole my eye of newt, damn it!

for fabulous listening, try anoushka shankar. she too is the daughter of ravi, in whose past lives was very, very good for being born in this one as music. he has passed on some good lookin genes: see anoushka and her sister, norah jones. heart stopping talent *and* breath stealing beauty. anoushka kicks some ass on that sittar too. ....can i trade dads?

i really like the word icily, as it is takes a noun and turns it into an adjective. 'she stared at him icily' --with the properties of ice.
oh, and i hate when 'ster' is put on the end of words when it's not supposed to be there. monster is ok, but not jokester, or the nauseating word i heard someone call their kid recently "cutester." ugh.

who ever thought up that crazy idea? MUSHROOM TRIPPERS, THAT'S WHO!!!

paul and i were watching this great program on animals who enjoy getting fucked up on various natural substances (except the monkey segment, who were slugging sluggish tourists' forgotten tropical concoctions--unnatural substances but "made with natural flavors" just like froot loops.) and there was a part of this show on a mushroom that grows under the snow way way up north (like by the pole?). anyway i forget the name of the mushroom, flyanonin or flyagogin or something that starts with flya, and the reindeer eat it in fairly large quantities until there's no more. the people who live there eat it too when they can find it and, as the teevee reports (ha) gives them feelings of airy weightlessness. they figured if they were feeling it, the reindeer were too, and began to "hallucinate" the reindeer flying through the air. hence, santa's flying fleet is born in the reveller's phantasmagorical fantasy land, an unknown realm of ice and snow, santa's magical mystery tour.

i bring this up in reference to terry's 'holidazed' as he mentioned that yes there is tradition behind various this n thats and how it's all lost and commercialized. although i learned the above tidbit from the teevee, i really enjoy the fact that flying reindeer are someone's mushroom trip, carrying santa on a trippy journey in a freaky suit, fiddling around other people's houses and eating craploads of cookies. sounds like fun. i'll stop blowing sunshine up everyone's ass now, cause xmas gets me down too, but traditions can be made without buying or buying into all the boolsheeit. i hope. okay, now i'll stop.

matthew, who showed me the way to a new musical heroine in the beautiful, illustrious miss dolly parton. she is ebullient and warm and she makes me happy.

that is all. sirs and madams.