i've gone to two more taco bells and i don't feel like writing about it. i don't want to review taco bells anymore.
it's like when you turn your passion into your job and then you no longer enjoy it? it's quite common amongst us artists. and if i can't enjoy my grilled stuft burrito, well, i'm not really sure what the point of any of this is.
i don't want to leave you empty-handed though, so let me share this one final story from the taco bell on NE interstate & going:
i drove up to the window -- it was a hot summer day. a fuzzy from a nearby cottonwood tree floated between me and the guy holding my bag of food. it floated towards me, as if it wanted to catch a ride home. i reached out to grab it, but missed, and it floated instead toward jeff,* who also tried to grab it but missed.
"i know they're not alive, but..." jeff laughed.
"but they clearly have souls," i replied.
jeff handed me my burrito and told me to have a lovely evening. and you know what? i did.
*i have no idea what his name was.