shambolika
@shambolika
Bookish. Tuneful. Humourous. Poetic. Erratic. Pākehā, Rangitāne, Ngati Kahungunu: Euronesian. Aroreretini (it's not a deficit, but a partitioning, of attention)
And the jellyfish Swatch remains peak single-function watch, to this day (mine was ripped off my arm in the pit at a thrash gig, in 1990. Didn't notice until after the gig)
Proof of life: the first photo is just after bottling, the second is a couple of days later, and the bubbles are lacto farts. Fermented rocoto and carrot, with caramelised onion, garlic ginger and tumeric. The best one yet, the Mrs reckons. The burn comes on slow, hot tho, lots of flavour
Bailey Girl (Brit? Probably, interfering in the colonies at any rate)running a petition to stop the NZ government killing cats. Blocked me before I could get going. Coward
It's only been a couple of weeks of burping these danger apples everyday and now they're really starting to fart, there's a hiss when I crack it. Today some of them become paste, to go in purple kimchi. The rest will keep going for a couple more weeks. This is now a fermenting account.
This fire started 5 years ago. I love ritual. On the first Matariki holiday we lit a fire in the back yard, took burnt sticks and put them away to light the fire the following year-and did that every year since, tho not always on the day. This year is weathering too much outside so I lit it inside.
"the dregs"of a large crock turn out to be ~300g. It's got turmeric in it, put it in a jar with an organic sticker and some yoga mum would pay twenty bucks for this
Heading into Matariki, thinking about spring, grateful for autumn, I have to show off this mid winter bounty of mountain pepper/rocoto chili/danger apples (only one of these is a name I didn't make up). These babies are the only chili I need, hot AF. Destined to ferment, these will be sauce & paste
I was gunna do unboxing pics. Got distracted by its beauty. It sounds so good. Just worked out the bass line to Low Rider, gunna pitch shift it down and groove the fuck out. Good morning
One man, one goal, one mission. One heart, one soul, just one solution. One flag of light yeah, one god, one vision
Heather was one of my art teachers. And I met Burton at a shed talk, it was him talking to CF Goldie. They smuggled a desicated cat from under a house, wrapped like a mummy into the US for the talkshow circuit in a crate marked CAT, which of course denotes catalogues, say for an art hoax #pukapuka
I imagine women must have to brace themselves, find some emotional balance, a place of strength within, before they post an opinion on social media, whereas I can pretty much say whatever I think is funny at the time and no one cares.
Home alone from Starship, preparing for the return of my fam, need comfort food, the dry goods cupboard provides, with good glollop of olive oil, a wee dab of treacle, a spiral thread of golden syrup, and hot cast iron. Best served when the milk sizzles as you add it to the bowl
if you see this, i beseech you to post a picture from whatever device you're using with no explanation
It's been a big day and i did it with a spasmodic chestal region. This is all i have energy for, for #AoPoWriMo day 3 which is a day ahead of #NaPoWriMo because i live in the future
This one's a bit shit but I'm so tired, it'll have to do. #AoPoWriMo not #NaPoWriMo #AoPoWriModay2 Highly in need of edit. The title could be "things I've walked on barefoot". Hot coals was fun