Timewaster's Guide Archive

at the moment I titrait and prepare small samples of fule for my brother's bio-deisel refinery, basically every batch of oil has slightly different properties so I get sent a sample of each batch, then I go through the steps of measuring PH and whatnot then finally turn the sample into usable fuel and send it and the determined properties of the oil(vegetable oil) to the refinery and they procede to turn it into a large amount of biodeisel fuel, then I do it again for another batch.
but my first love is combustion, not so much that I like blowing things up but i like creating energy where there currently was only matter. I can make just about anything combust(I don't) but unlike teenage pyromaniacs I have a sense of restraint, i really want to combine my artistic skill with my love of chemistry and design fireworks,,, they're actually really simple and I don't know why nobody's made anything new with them, but i want to...
also I made all the fires in my house red and green this week... it's like someone set christmass on fire...

I actually made hunan food last night, mu-si soup, it's served all over hunan, which is a very pretty place, i don't feel right cooking food from a region unless I've been there myself, and I cook food more often from places I've visited more frequently, which is why i mostly cook selk and iseraeli food.
for tonight:
grilled salmon with a blackberry and red wine reduction
grilled potatoes with gravey made from the the leftover salmon juices and flour and onions
boiled then creamed radishes(kind of like spicy cremed spinach)
this would or is an example of delicious selk cuisine.
tomorrow night i'll treat you to some israeli recipes.

an egyptian market would have kaffir lime leaves, at least every one I've been to has, the problem is trying to find middle eastern(iranian iraqi israeli) type ingredients in california where multicultural mean putting random foods into taco form for that delightful "south of the border" flavor... god damn bobby flay...

The end of the beginninG(chapter 2)
Why is it when people tell stories they always ask if they can begin at the beginning? It does matter where I start, for all you know anything could be the beginning.
After ruminating the profound universal truth my friend had stumbled upon I decided to do it, I was going to find the perfect taco. Like Huck I had heard the whisperings from afar and I don't plan on stopping till I reach that damn cave!
I packed a bag full of clothes, money, toiletries, and a book, then exactly twenty minutes and forty-five seconds later I was out the door and on my way to the airport. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going, as I bought the first ticket on the list and boarded the plane without a second thought, however I would like to point out that my first thought, oddly enough, was "this airport smells like mexican food."
The flight was as always, less than perfect, like a flawed fajita whizzing through the atmosphere. I felt like Huck, floating on a raft at the river's mercy with no knowledge or control of my destination.
The plane landed with an apathetic thud, like a whale beaching itself out of sheer boredome. I left the airport in a manner accustomed to an arrow thats forgotten it can only travel in a straight line. I rushed outside and was met with the most aggressive air I've ever come across, no matter how hard I tried not to breath it continued to force itself down my throat and just wouldn't take no for an answer. This brings me to the end of the beginning, now I must begin the ending.

I've started chapter three, but i'll post it after I'm finished.

pretty much.
a selk is just a relatively scarce ethnic group which experiences a certain emnity with the cathohlics, kinda like the jews. And just to set the record straight, I'm living in california, but I immigrated from ireland a few years ago.

um I don't want to be rude or anything, but I'm not christian(or any variation thereof), I'm a selk... we learned a long long time ago not to put much stock in our gods...most of them are incompitent egomaniacle tards...

well its december and I'm writing another book.
The Perfect Taco
'Preface'
When the sky opens up and i'm alone with the world I'll look towards oblivian and smile, because there will be so very much to look forward to. As the world walks down death row God will ask me what I desire for my last meal and I'll laugh and say "The perfect taco"
The beginning of the enD(chapter one)
Louisiana in september is like an obscene phone call from nature, it's hot, sticky, and on occasion quite offensive. I can understand his plight, I'm looking for something too, but it's not adventure. I'm after the perfect taco. Most people would tell me that i'd have better luck in Mexico, I'll tell you right now that these people have sh!t for brains. The perfect taco is a state of mind and being, not a luaghable attempt at psuedo-mexican cuisine as made by a poorly furnished resturant chain.
This all started,ironically enought, at a Taco Bell, probably five years and, oh say ten seconds ago, my friend looked at me from across a plastic table and said "ya know, there's just no such thing as the perfect taco.". At first I didn't think much of it, but when I got back to my apartment it hit me like a sac of frozen swedes. No matter where you go, or how good it tastes, a taco is always missing something, but not just the taco, everything is always perfect, just minus that special something.

this is obviously not proofread or entirely complete, but comment anyone.