Happy Thanksgiving. An american holiday built upon slaughter and backstabbing.
I could care less about the pilgrims and indians.
I could live without the cranberry sauce and stuffing (from what i hear, the caned and boxed type is some of the bast anyways)
All I've ever cared about is
- how to perfectly peal a potato in the least amount of shavings possible
- and waking up at some god awful time to hear the chaos of Macy's thanksgiving day parade in the background as i nod in and out of sleep under the covers.
Unfortunately: I will be navigating my way through the mess of children, tourism, and massive balloons in order to get out of the city at 8am this year.
Fortunately: I will also be able to spend 4 hours on a bus, without having to speak. I don't remember that last time I was able to do that.
Thanks to not giving, I suppose.
I will be departing from my small dysfunctional European family in order to make it to a larger dysfunctional European family, before dinner.
I've downloaded three Louis C.K. podcasts, photos to shop, and all of my Wire albums, for the bus ride.
The best part of Thanksgiving: a background story.