crossed one thousand commits on github, arbitrary.
watched the first ten episodes of 1975's saturday night live. none topped the first: billy preston, andy kaufman's famous mighty mouse skit, and george carlin hosting. richard pryor's lineup still relevant.
do you ever look at the crowds in old movies and wonder if they're dead yet?
woke up tuesday morning to chicken bones strewn all over the kitchen floor. thought, "wow mbaye must have been really drunk last night." wednesday early morning, opened the door to my room, and a scampering cat startled me as it dashed between the front bars of our open-air apartment. chicken bones on the floor again. oh.
elect boubacar the best name. a lot going on here, but you have to pay attention..
only now noticed the bananas outside my window
just two dudes hanging out of focus
we both must have positively-charged hair
throwback from when the city was named dahorse
will miss andrea. she tagged along while i went to buy a coca cola today. at the store fridge, she motions for some milk. i show her juicebox #1, juicebox #2, then pull out the little carton. i stand up to pay for everything, but she reaches for the milk, starts to whine. i ask her to wait, she gets louder. a few more asks, she doesn't stop, i put the milk back, howling now. i (monster) pay for my coke and reach for her hand to walk home, not a chance. tantrum blocking other customers from register. i pick her up, she pounds my chest, the white man with screaming african toddler rubbernecking puts the gnarliest 495 collision to shame. we're safely in our building, i put her down, walk away, she cries till i'm out of sight, follows me, sees me, resumes crying, repeat till she's back in the apartment. naptime. when she woke up, things were right as rain. fuckin' kids.