For the first time in our current ward and precinct,
spatch and I did not have to prove our identities before voting tonight. The difference was magical: instead of Kafkaesque obstruction which our papers could only provisionally resolve, we were presented with ballots, which we cast and were out of there in five minutes flat. We had earlier in the evening enjoyed dinner from Guru the Caterer, which only took us seventeen months of walking past on a regular basis to try rather than just inhale like a beggar in a folktale—admittedly for almost half that time I was medically prohibited takeout. I rejoice in a local source of goat curry, especially on nights when the combo includes the option of palak paneer and roti and rice and pickle into the bargain, which is most of a thali without the plate. I had never actually seen bread pakora in a restaurant before and probably would try it. I am still sufficiently new to eating from restaurants again that it feels like a treat each time.
Links
Page Summary
Active Entries
- 1: Reading your mind is like foreign TV
- 2: When you turn a solemn promise to a blatant lie
- 3: If one year's back on my shoulder
- 4: Me, I'm a rotten audience before I've had my coffee
- 5: I'm not on my own
- 6: You know what comes right after the dark
- 7: I wish I grew Annapolis apples up above Fundy Bay
- 8: Kicking a peach pit till I worry it's blue
- 9: I liked you better when you weren't cool
Style Credit
- Style: Classic for Refried Tablet by and
Expand Cut Tags
No cut tags