Posts from the ‘Maryland’ Category
There were only a few of them at first. And then before you know it, there were close to a few hundred. They started eating the grass, then the vegetables, and then the pets. That’s when we had to move. Then I saw on facebook that they’re congregating near my neighborhood. I don’t want to move again but I’ve seen what they’re capable of.
The Fermi Paradox is “the apparent contradiction between the lack of evidence and high probability estimates for the existence of extraterrestrial civilizations.” I don’t know if I buy this. I think the fact that we can imagine that there is life in space means that there is in fact life in space. In the end, I think the paradox comes down to this: at some point either we will take planes into space or something will come in planes from space. We just don’t know.
That’s where I want to go.
According to a personality test I took on the internet, I’m apparently from a purple universe about three hundred million light years away. I didn’t believe it at first — because who believes anything on the internet anyway — but I know deep inside that it’s true. Sometimes, when I force myself to wake up while in deep REM sleep, I am visited by my ancestors from the Purple Universe. They tell me all kinds of stories like how they arrived on Earth, and how there were others from other Universes fighting it out to see who would maintain supremacy. They were all humans as we know it but they had different characteristics. Some had additional eyes or legs. Things like that. But one thing was clear: it was a violent time. There wasn’t much food until some of the people from the Purple and Orange Universes got together and cooked all the dinosaurs in these huge BBQ pits. It was eye-opening if you ask me. And it also made me realize that space travel isn’t for the weak or faint at heart.
When I think of the spelling of those magical round fried dough like creations with a hole in the middle, I don’t think of “doughnuts.” Instead, I think of “donuts,” which according to Merriam Webster, is the “less common spelling” of the term.
While I understand that “doughnuts” may be the “more correct” spelling — because after all “doughnuts” are made of “dough” — I just have trouble accepting the fact that “doughnut” is the “more common spelling.”
For all the “doughnut” spelling purists, maybe I can be forgiven for not understanding the language. I was born in the late 1970’s, so the only “doughnut” shop I knew about growing up was ultimately Dunkin’ Donuts.
And then later, in New York, I remember places like Alpha Donut, D-Lite Donuts, and of course, the one and only, the creator of the topnotch triple threat Plain-Powder-Cinnamon Softee Donuts, Entenmann’s Donuts. There was also this place right off Queensboro Plaza subway station, and I am convinced their name had Donut in it.
This is far from any scientific study, but I’ve noticed that many of the nouveau places — you know, the kind where everything is handcrafted, artisanal, and most importantly, grossly overpriced — generally use the Doughnut spelling. See Doughnut Plant.
I prefer “Donut” shops, as opposed to “Doughnut” shops. I don’t want the menu printed in handwritten colored chalk. I don’t want my coffee in a big ceramic mug with a foam heart on top. I don’t want 67 different varieties of donuts to choose from. I don’t want cozy sofas to sit on, or I Heart Radio playing in the background. I don’t want a place that accepts credit cards. I don’t want a cloth napkin served with my donuts. And I definitely don’t want my donut served on a plate.
I EAT MY DONUTS IN A NONDESCRIPT BROWN PAPER BAG WHILE I’M WALKING AND USE MY SLEEVE AS A NAPKIN.
Keep your damn Doughnuts, you Doughnut People.
There are electric eels in my bathtub.
I’m kind of glad I left New York City when I did. At least that’s what I tell myself.
When people ask me whether I miss New York City, I invariably say, “There’s less noise and fewer people.”
The metro is clean. I still don’t know how much a ride costs. I don’t have to walk everywhere I go if I don’t want to. I can get in my busted Prius with its faded magnets and bumper stickers and drive so I can buy some useless shit to put in my trunk.
No more pushing or pulling those busted wire carts down the sidewalk.
I still crave pizza and bagels. A good bagel shop is one that knows how to properly make pumpernickel.
They have this pizza called “New Haven Style.” I don’t know how to describe it really. It’s not thin, foldable, or oily. It’s not going to satisfy that part of the taste buds that are also reserved for fried chicken or donuts.
They put salad on the pizza.
There were always people in New York. There was always something, and you knew if you waited long enough, or traveled far enough, something was going to go down.
I think I’ve photographed the same tree about fifty times.
It could also be I’m just going old.
Bear with me as I figure some things out.