I’m on the train this morning when I start paying attention to what I’m thinking. It goes like this, “Picante picante picante picante picante.” I must have read it on a sign somewhere.
After noting that my at-rest mental processes are those of a five year old, I start thinking of other words that stick in my head:
gouache Donahue torpor punctilio albondigasThat last one is the spanish word for meatballs. Albondigas, albondigas, albondigas.