I'm making pancakes, in a sort of way.
Trivial because there are people reading this who don't even like me. Anyways...
It's Italian flour, organic sugar, cinnamon, butter, collagen powder, yogurt, the soul of one egg, and a dash of salt.
I made it yesterday, sans the egg.
Delicious, I say!
Then again, I eat raw meat.
It's sort of resembles a thick tortilla. THICK.
The pancake, not the meat.
I don't mind it that way.
It must be a lot of work to pretend you like someone when you don't. How exhausting. How tiresome. How pitiful.
Cinnamon is supposed to be good for the heart.
The ant Conga line has finally congoed away.
How can a person survive when nothing is ever good enough?
That's the thing, they don't. They just die a little more inside.
You have to want to see the good.
And then you can't miss it.
Made tea again today.
God damn what a good thing it is.
Speak your mind as if it were enthusiastic sin.
Won't know until September if my memoir submission got picked.
Strange how it has me oddly excited to get in.
Finished my Disco Cuddle Me piece. She's in the shop for a price that's nearly free.
Tenet number one. You can't expect loyalty when you behave disloyally from the jump.
I love your lines:
"You have to want to see the good.
And then you can't miss it."