Last night I dreamt about Buster Keaton movies. I'm not really sure it counts as a dream, more of a recollection--it was just scenes from The General, Steamboat Bill, Jr. and College.
I've been trying out some of the Mexican restaurants around here for lunch. In the part of town where I used to live, years of experience had taught me all about the many Mexican restaurants in the area--it's amazing how consistently I find each little place makes a unique burrito. Even if we're talking about comparing a bean and rice burrito with a bean and rice burrito (my usual)--the seasonings will be subtly different, the sizes will be different, the price will be different. There was the K-39 place that pushed the Creation Museum--their bean and rice burrito was only a dollar thirty and tasted slightly like paste. There was Cazadores which made really big, slightly disgusting but somehow in a good way, bean and rice burritos for three dollars.
Yesterday I tried a place I can't remember the name of--I think it was called Mike's. Anyway, I won't be going back. I don't think anyone remotely connected to Mexico had ever worked there. They didn't even have bean and rice burritos--I had vegetarian Tacos which tasted like they were made by a blonde Republican senator, bland and gross. The best part of the meal was the French fries.
I walked down the street and handed out some more stale bread. The seagulls hovered all around me, screaming. It was great.