I pass that taco place on my way to and from therapy but have never thought of actually eating there. Club music even at 10am! But S. suggested it and it was on my way so that’s where we ate. He’s been in Oslo since I’ve seen him, had many things to say about how we memorialize resistance. I hope we have some to remember here. 

Advertisements

I don’t think I’ve ever had a beer that tasted as good as the beer at the taco place post-Brooklyn Half, utterly spent, exhausted, O. eating chicken tacos across from me, splitting an order of chips.

Paper came out, substantive revisions complete, dance tickets for later, plenty of time between everything, top of the world.

Gulped two chicken tacos as fast as I could and still just barely made it on time to the parent-teacher conference. All of it was pretty good stuff.

K. bought be lunch because I agreed to read through chapter four. I’m not sure what was more satisfying, cutting two and a half pages or the hongos at Calexico.

We were finally out of the woods and what was just right was tacos, with fish or with chorizo with beets, so many kinds of cheese, lettuce and guacomole. M. can cook.

On my way to meet K. and O., C. and D. at the playground on 3rd and 5th, spent from the fastest 10K I’ve ever run in my life my god can you believe it maybe I’ll spend the next few years working on my 10K time, I stopped and grabbed a couple of tacos, wolfed them down, hit the bouncy house.