and like a dying lady, lean and pale,
who totters forth, wrapped in a gauzy veil,
out of her chamber, led by the insane
and feeble wanderings of her fading brain,
the moon arose up in the murky east,
a white and shapeless mass---
CHOCOLATE (it's for the gods)
i've been selling chocolates for, uh, five years (holy shit). now that i'm in college i only work the sporadic holiday-schedule, but it's autopilot at this point. and let me follow that up by saying the most i've ever been involved in the chocolate-making process is dipping cashews and cutting fudge (so that i can eat them). i really don't even know how most of this shit even works (e.g. i have no idea what that blue machine, picture down below, is; can-opener?)--- i do know that the machine & conveyor belt organism (pictured up top) is like that candy-coater in the i love lucy bit, but our machine doesn't work nearly that fast (and we don't get to wear chef hats)
the store has been in biz since 1929 and there's all these 'crepid letters/orders from the white house and hollywood, which people like to stare at--- good thing it's behind glass; bad thing it's in a corner i have to walk thru, so dummies is always fuckin with maflow.
the extent of my work is basic clerical; i stand behind a long desk and when a customer wants to pick out a box i have to walk around an upside-down U; the cupped chocolates are on trays, which are on fance tables with glass sneeze-guards (but the glass is half-way open on top so that dicks are always trying to touch the chocos, EVENTHOUGH there are labels on the front of the glass---- read: DONT TOUCH, YA DICKS) and other than that all i do is answer the phone and take stock, so, good life is the life i live.
we've gone through 1, 2, 3, 4 candy-makers in five years, but i didn't know the earlier ones, since i would work upstairs and mostly in the afternoon or weekends, and they work weekday morns down in the basement-factory complex. but it smells so yummy-yoimmy-delicious when the candy-maker is cookin that bubble baby chocolate lava--- i'm constantly hovering around waiting for candy rejects (paying customers have 100% higher standards than me)
the store has been in biz since 1929 and there's all these 'crepid letters/orders from the white house and hollywood, which people like to stare at--- good thing it's behind glass; bad thing it's in a corner i have to walk thru, so dummies is always fuckin with maflow.
the extent of my work is basic clerical; i stand behind a long desk and when a customer wants to pick out a box i have to walk around an upside-down U; the cupped chocolates are on trays, which are on fance tables with glass sneeze-guards (but the glass is half-way open on top so that dicks are always trying to touch the chocos, EVENTHOUGH there are labels on the front of the glass---- read: DONT TOUCH, YA DICKS) and other than that all i do is answer the phone and take stock, so, good life is the life i live.
we've gone through 1, 2, 3, 4 candy-makers in five years, but i didn't know the earlier ones, since i would work upstairs and mostly in the afternoon or weekends, and they work weekday morns down in the basement-factory complex. but it smells so yummy-yoimmy-delicious when the candy-maker is cookin that bubble baby chocolate lava--- i'm constantly hovering around waiting for candy rejects (paying customers have 100% higher standards than me)
we mostly get high-brow, molders (whom, BUT OF COURSE, have been coming there since ghost of 50 christmas years past) and they always insist on shipping boxes during the summer, even though they gonna melt as soon as it's walked outside. but my favorite are the foreigners. say what? yeah, heard right, i like the pigeon-english tourists, but mostly because they like---- MARZIPAN!!!!
i mean i fu-ckin love marzipan, but whenever i tell customers what it is (they never know what it is) and they hear almond paste, they barf in their mouth-- what's up with that? ugh, they're losing out! marzipan just smells good and me & the foreigners are the only ones that appreciate 'em. we just have dark chocolate-covered pieces now, but we used to have these fruit-shaped ones and they were gorgeous (i think i would graze on three per session)
i also do love when the kids come in after school (it always surprises me when kids are polite, i don't think i was ever like that) and specially during the summer because there's a group of girls who set up a lemonade stand right out front and they always give me a cup of that straight syrup, freshing.
i mean i fu-ckin love marzipan, but whenever i tell customers what it is (they never know what it is) and they hear almond paste, they barf in their mouth-- what's up with that? ugh, they're losing out! marzipan just smells good and me & the foreigners are the only ones that appreciate 'em. we just have dark chocolate-covered pieces now, but we used to have these fruit-shaped ones and they were gorgeous (i think i would graze on three per session)
i also do love when the kids come in after school (it always surprises me when kids are polite, i don't think i was ever like that) and specially during the summer because there's a group of girls who set up a lemonade stand right out front and they always give me a cup of that straight syrup, freshing.
#1 question: you eat all the chocolate?
answer (spoken): teehee, yes.
answer (thought): hell i look like? a'carse! this shit is premium gangbusters, madude.
best part: i am a ferrero rocher commercial
worst part: chocolate on your teeth?
ROSEMARY'S BABY (as if childbirth wasn't scary enough)
"We can also speak of a living person as uncanny, and we do so when we ascribe evil intentions to him. But that is not all; in addition to this we must feel that his intentions to harm us are going to be carried out with the help of special powers."
the one gender class i took was a gender/film hybrid course, so a cop-out. i had seen the movie and read the book (by ira levin) before--- the book is pretty much ezactly the same except for the ending; rosemary's pretty empowered (which means nothing, since she was at 0% previous) at the end--- she puts her foot down on the baby wearing black all the time and calls him andrew instead of adrian (good call)
we watched a lot of actually good movies (i'm usually disappointed in movie classes), which, at first, seemed to have nothing to do with womens-folks (still not sure about silence of the lambs, but, hey, buffalo bill? he just wants to do him---and get fucked in a size 12 skin robe).
rosemary's baby was another one of those until i realized, oh yeah, girl gets demon-pregnant. and the thought of myself pregnant vacillates between utter revulsion and ambivalence (i would definitely take advantage of the crazy hormone/cravings stereotype--- chinese food and pieces of chalk, allday) so ranting a paper on how pregnancy is a total shitty hetero-normative whatever whatever and being dominated by shitty patriarchal society was--- fun:
WHEN HUGO WOLF WENT MAD --- BUKOWSKI
hugo wolf went mad while eating an onion
and writing his 235rd song; it was rainy
april and the worms came out of the ground
humming tannhäuser, and he spilled his milk
with his ink, and his blood fell out to the walls
and he howled and he roared and he screamed, and
down-
stairs his landlady said, i knew it, that rotton son
of a
bitch has dummied up his brain, he's jacked-off
bitch has dummied up his brain, he's jacked-off
his last piece
of music and now i'll never get the rent and some-
day he'll be fam-
ous and they'll bury him in the rain, but right now
i wish he'd shut
up that god damned screaming--for my money he's
a silly pansy jackass
and when they move him out of here, i hope they
move in a good solid fish-
erman
or a hangman
or a seller of
biblical tracts.
JOHNNY CAKES (grimy pancakes for panhandlers)
cravin pancakes (always) but don't have bisquick and just can't deal with making 'em from scratch? yawl, johnnycakes are here straight outta 19th century southern skillets! the first ones i made looked and tasted like wet, scraggy chicken feed, but i was just a ROOKIE, okay? it was my first fucking time, leave it. the ones i make now just look like latkas, which is better than how they looked before, trust. they're super super easy to make and the only thing you might not have is cornmeal.
need: ground cornmeal (quaker, goya, etc.), milk, water, butter, salt (pepper and cheese, if ya nasty), skillet/frying pan, spatula and big mixing bowl.1. mix 1 cup cornmeal with 1/2 cup milk, tablespoon boiling water, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 2 tablespoon butter (easiest to melt it in the microwave first) in bowl--- i like to toss in ground pepper and cheese (grated parmesan), add to taste.**can use an egg instead of butter (just use butter in the pan)**2. (mix should be similar to pancake batter, but it's fine if there's lumps) grease pan and dollop batter in--- watch out for sputtering cornmeal bits--- cook over low-medium heat
3. flip cakes pretty quickly (once they're brown and start smelling homestyle)
4. i like eating 'em plain (since i add cheese 'n shit) but you can eat them with ketchup, molasses/syrup, honey, etc you fancy
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