For breakfast this morning I ate tomatoes, straight from the vine, warm from the sun, and I stuffed them directly in my mouth, the warm juicy innards exploding as I chewed. Soon the Time of the Salsa will begin, a season in which tomatoes ripen almost faster than I can eat them, and I subsist entirely on tortilla chips and garden-fresh salsa.
I can no longer be certain what day it is. A Monday concert left me feeling like Monday and Tuesday must have been Saturday and Sunday. I worked on the wagon over the weekend and took my break during the week. The vokü is closed for summer vacation. At this point the only thing that is certain is that the construction workers start driving their tanks around at 6:30 am each morning, vibrating us all out of our beds, making sitting in the vegan kitchen intolerable. They have turned what once was a chaotic and green wagon-filled living space into an ugly beige wasteland. Soon to be a modern new chemistry building. I can’t wait for that. (COUGH) The architect that the university has had design its two latest buildings—a new music academy and an animal testing lab—seems to take all of his inspiration from the Star Trek Borg. What will he think up next?! Another gray-black square?! OH BOY!
In more pleasant news, the gods and goddesses of the trash continue to shower me with housewarming gifts, like enormous dinosaur piles of Styrofoam, and dressers, and wooden beds made out of exactly the cut of wood I need to replace two rotten beams.
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