I’ve been too distraught to write for the past 10 weeks, ever since I found out I am allergic to gluten. No more pizza, pasta or beer. I thought Mozzadrella was surely finished.
But Chicago bucked up. And now I’m going to flood you with my gluten-free exploits.
But I also got a little tired of the food-centric bent of the Fresh Mozz. This slice is still going to be fresh, but more inclusive. I dig new media, new verse, steampunk visions, walking slowly, overdone collars, endlessly considering my drag persona and making piles. Sound good?
So move with me.