mouth goo

i've decided to be really pretentious today. this post will not mention meat today; meat is too real, too resonant of being and bodies and tangibility. no, this entry shall contain the delicate soup of truth, shall be composed of those things we consume only because we believe we're better for doing so (sorta like reading "important" novels and giving up comfortable seats to the pregnant and elderly). it--the soup--shall contain organic leafy greens and spices purchased from trader joe's (when aldi is right down the block). it shall boil in a stainless steel pot of the finest quality even though the local k-mart sells a pretty good martha stewart soup pot for fourteen bucks. it shall be flavored with red wine though this adds nothing to the overall flavor. it shall entice the nostrils to sniff (SNIFF!!!) the wondrous flavors therein, though it'll probably disappoint in both nutritional value and taste. you dummies should've ordered the turkey club (and stopped reading when i used the phrase "delicate soup of truth").

see how easy it is to be pretentious? that was fun. it's much harder to be sincere. i'm actually not feeling all hilarious like my crazy soup story. i'm feeling rather serious these days and for those who know me this isn't good. seriousness can be pensive or helpful or maturing, but my seriousness is an annoying transient with wet bread crumbs in the corners of his mouth; i can't focus too long on anything important cuz i'm too disgusted by the moist goo on his lips. i'm still not making sense here. anyone up for shopping? buying shit always sorts things out for me.

i've done nothing especially important today. my freshmen are working on a two-week mythology project that requires very little from me. my juniors will be tested on early and middle british history tomorrow. i'm anticipating their anger with not being prepared. how many times do i have to tell them to take advantage of my help before i decide to shut up? after that, we're reading "the scottish play." apparently (and i'm supposedly a failure as an english major for not knowing this), referring to macbeth by its actual name is bad luck if you do so in a theater. i'm sure that i've seen a production of macbeth in a theater and i'm also quite sure that i've uttered its name in said theater. this explains a lot. here i was thinking all my shitty moments were part of the necessary balancing act of the universe when in actuality i brought them all on myself. good grief (charlie brown face).