the flavor

Things have almost cleared up.

I can actually see most of the rug in my kitchen now, and I've even started cooking.
Between work, school, and necessary naps, my average rate of unpacking is about two boxes a day. I've even begun to cook and re-assemble my pantry.


I've been trying to figure out what it is I like so much about this area, and I've concluded that it's the flavor.

I've said that word time, and time again this summer, only because I truly understand the meaning of the word. Flavor is when you step outside your door and the air smells like garlic and lawn. Flavor is when you walk down the street slowly with a cigarette and say "bongiorno" to your neighbors. Flavor is when you see two grown men arguing about each others mothers' pizano's.

I used to live at the mall. I'll call it the mall, because the streets were always flashing with signs and something was always being pushed on me. Religion, Black History Month, Cadbury coupons, silver Elvis dancers, and an endless horizon of advertisements. If my current neighborhood was a slice of pizza, the mall would have been a napkin.
Around here, everyone walks slowly and does their own thing. I wear whatever I want, and do whatever I want, whenever. Most importantly, it's quuuiiieeeeet. Hear that? No sirens, Andy.

However, one downside to all of this is the sheer amount of walking I do any given day. My feet are literally two burger patty's. I have to wear different shoes everyday so that different parts of my feet get worn down. Even worse than that; I usually carry a pin around with me in case I need to pop a blister in the middle of my day. I need a new bike badly.