I May Be Flinty and Quarrelsome, but I Read Good Books and Know That Justice League Was Poorly Executed
First, look at this lie of a photo I took. It makes that ramen Aidan ate tonight look positively amazing:
It was not amazing, though. It was all heat with no flavour depth. It made me feel similar to how I imagine sleeping with a steroidal gym rat would feel: easy on the eyes but slightly shameful and ultimately forgettable. I also ate some crap gyoza that had been inexplicably deep-fried so that the exterior shell gained an overly oiled flavour which overrode what is normally a decently savoury interior. I soaked them in a rice wine and soy sauce mix I jury-rigged to make them edible. They tasted like sadness, but saltier.
This is not a restaurant review, so I won't tell you where we ate this food. The restaurant in question normally has pretty good fare, and this is the first off meal we've had there. I'm just feeling flinty and quarrelsome. I need some shins to kick, because I couldn't kick the gyoza, even though they were definitely asking for it. Restaurants don't like gyoza kickers.
It feels like I'm someone who should have already read Bird By Bird, and Wah is a new-to-me poet who apparently originally hailed from Saskatchewan, so this is a good haul.
I stopped regularly writing poetry for months after publishing a poem every day in 2016, but I've got the bug again. I love it when I'm writing poetry, but it also makes me suffer the worst imposter syndrome. Somehow, reading other poets and keeping their books lined up on my desk distracts me from my insecure present and gives me growth focus. They're my poetry-writing helper dogs.
Poetry wrenches my guts, but then falling in love always made me sick, too, so it makes sense.
And before that, Aidan and I watched Justice League. It is a terrible movie. The CGI was generally poor, a bunch of stuff didn't makes sense, the visuals were so busy during most of it that they obscured what was happening, and the women characters were little more than emotional comfort blankets for the men. At least Wonder Woman got to fight a stupid-looking humanoid insect army. Poor Lois Lane mostly got to do stuff like stand supportively in a field with a wooden Superman who looked like he was better suited to wearing a Century 21 blazer while trying to sell me on a mid-range suburban bungalow.
I still liked the movie-going anyway. I mostly go to the movies to eat giant bags of over-buttered popcorn and cuddle up with Aidan in the dark. It's hard to lose.
I am publishing a post every day in November for NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month).