spicy pasta

for years i have been rewinding my chosen peeves in this page. thus deciding on some process of elimination, a few excess baggage like posts on confounding behavior, blog jaunts and people with no interest on the back pages of the paper would be trimmed down to control my jibes. besides those subjects, i have nothing to talk about really. i don't go to restaurants or indulge in food photography. there are no prada conventions in the horizon. i'm pretty certain any of roland mouret's creations would fit my thumbelina frame. the pictures i've seen so far from london's fashion week are still not up to par. although i've got to admit, london's got style with fashionistas all dolled up in the underground on a chilly weekday.

as for my quotidian liturgies, the art and science of overblown potassium and ureas are not that exciting. the co-morbidities exacerbate if not hasten the disease process. plus it all reminds me of my dad. an environment bereft in patience, gratitude and humility may not nourish the soul but i've learned to render a spin on the positive vibes. a friendly demeanor is just right in the alley. maybe.

as i explore words and stories in my menagerie and wrestle with chores such as tidying up the endless room clutter and utilizing the cleaning brush with such ferocity, i promise myself to be more productive. i'm actually bad with promises. so i'll just walk my walk, read a little, write a bit and tinker in the kitchen. right.