she came in through the bathroom window

hipster art. the art that is seen when one is also seeing hipsters.
i.e. art that doesn't in any way connect with my brain correlate of beauty.

when wandering through many many galleries, i realized that i might better be surrounded by gorgeousity by letting my mind wander through a science paper or two...

art that doesn't connect with my personal sense of reality, of course, is not good art. nor is it surprising that relatively few possess a similar sense of reality.

so make your own damn art.

ok.

me: "reality bites."

yao: "no. it burns your throat and your nostrils."

indeed, indeed.

true words spoken in the aftermath of the aborted manic ethiopian dinner. my crazy dreams being the thing bit by reality.

in other news, the ethiopian chicken wet, successfully made the next night, was good - but not spicy enough. vegetable stew made later in the week - meh, not really ethiopian.

and if you follow recipes instructing you to just let the teff flour ferment in water for a few days, bubbling with its "wild yeast," you will get moldy water. oh, injera, how i pine for thee.