Oh man, I was going to write about the first entry for Blood From the Mountain, but I have been defeated, overthrown, o’erthrown even by the best god damn turkey burger burrito I have ever made or had the pleasure of inhaling. It was sublime, it was so large that I looked like a three year old trying to hold it, this succulent hot and sizzling turkey burger with Gruyere cheese and cherry and apple cut in twain and slipped into a whole wheat pita atop a few slices of swiss with minced tomato and fresh greens and a liberal shaking of black beans and a dousing of as hot as can be salsa. And I gazed upon it, and it was good, and I ate it, and now, and now, oh sweet lord have mercy, I am delirious, I am in a state of rapture, my belly cries for succor and I can only laugh, a long dark diabolical laugh for I have no pity no, I would put more in my poor belly did I have more to eat, for verily did I finish Grace’s burrito too and now, now, I can do little more than sit in the corner and gloat, for if ever Monday was a competition, than dear friends and comrades, I have won.

If I am able to regain my mind, if my sensibilities are returned unto me, than I shall blog anew and speak on that which I have written. But until then, until such a point should come to pass, I shall give myself fully to the act of digestion.