On the subject of me

Snail photo credit goes to Stefan Siverud - this is a snail in his "snail pimp" series. I heart it.

​​Hi, everyone. I have no idea what I’m doing here, so I’ll just keep going. (pause and reflect.)

It’s March. I’m in San Francisco. The torrential downpour we were supposed to get starting yesterday is more like what I’d imagine the atmosphere in someone’s mouth would be after having swallowed asphalt sorbet – kinda warm, mostly cold, really moist, cloudy, asphalt-scented, and not wet enough to be useful. 
 
Also – I was suddenly smelling chicken fat in the shower today.

Pick the next sentence!

1. My grandmother (now deceased) made a mean chicken soup, and sometimes she comes around to say hello
2. The handmade soap I was gifted contains chicken

 
Good. Whichever one you picked is fair game, because I don’t know what the hell’s going on. All I know is that I looked at my soap and realized it had the smell, look and feel of schmaltz. I decided to continue rubbing it all over my body, because I’ve often imagined doing this with pork fat (seriously. SERIOUSLY.).  Am I clean?  Have I just trapped the unclean under a layer of grease?  Who can say?

But if you like pork fat, I highly recommend the pork belly appetizers (Thit Kho Chien) at Le Colonial in San Francisco. 

They’re basically layered cake bites but with pork in all of the places there should be cake stuff.  It’s like:  meat, fat, meat, fat, meat , fat, meat.  Or fat, meat, meat, fat, fat, meat, fat.  


Here are some other examples you may not get around to considering:

• Fat, fat, meat, fat, meat, meat, fat
• Meat, fat, meat, fat, fat, fat, meat
• Meat, fat, fat, fat, meat, meat meat

 
 
In conclusion:  San Francisco is moisting, my body will be covered in gnats by the end of the day, and pork belly.