I just read an email. I’ve never been irritated so much, then returned back to a state of normalcy so quickly. If a 25% raise wasn’t involved, I would have responded with…I don’t know what I would responded with to be honest. I have never gotten the opportunity to seriously sit down and curse out a white person of power. I probably would put a lot of thought into it, maybe even write a rough draft reply-email. I’m over it now. I figured there would be tighter lines of communication since money and the addition of much needed labor are involved.

And now I’d like to share a very short tale about my Saturday. It was written on Saturday.

I’m sitting in the lobby of The Charles. It’s a theater in the wanna-be art district of Baltimore. The films they show draw in very specific groups of people, mainly old white people and “hipsters”. The former are swarming the lobby as I type this. One woman in particular has the meanest broke down mug, like a villainess in a live action Disney picture. I’m wondering to myself why is she so upset? What’s her problem? She’s probably well off so what’s she got to be pissed about?

Then I looked down and saw her right hand hanging like a golden retriever’s tongue, mid-day in July.

I guess if I had a t-rex arm in my twilight, I’d have the grumpy grill too. I couldn’t toss sauteed mushrooms and hold a beer simultaneously anymore. I’m bummed just thinking about that.

I went to see Putty Hill, a film shot entirely in Baltimore. I don’t even know if I enjoyed it or not. It was like a toned down Larry Clark film, mundane everyday life on film minus child nudity and sex.

I’ve been watching the Cooking Channel a lot recently. I figured out what I did wrong with my cheese sauce. Mini-revelations are the best revelations if you ask me, especially if it deals with increasing the volumes of my mmmm’s.

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