The aviary used free child labor from a french class to write the menus.

They were on a field trip.

They also charged.

Scabs keep the lights on.

You know who you are., for shame.

That was originally "Caspers". Random facts.

My Great Uncle Casper was "Casper".

​

Need some "things"?

Dude the fucking cinnamon rolls wtf, why? Why? I don't give a shit if the waitress had hairy nipples and a mustache, or the fact that they both had almost constant and continual contact from kitchen to plat to expo to table - I like to think the post menopausal breastmilk leakage and sagging, unavoidable "feted" tit sweat added that extra somethingsomething to the whole thing.

Like waking up to your dad yelling "take the trash out" while he walks by your room,stopping to - "shake off the ball water" (imagine machine gun airguitar strumming your teste's after a fresh shower...you get the damaging mental imagery?
Good...good.)

Memories...amiright?

Yeah. Sounds spot the fuck on.

I...feel that.

That resonates deeply in my clinically depressed, blackhole where my soul once inhabited the space - but collapsed in on itself after exposure to "ever enumerating and seemingly exponential detached and isolated settings, situations and disentanglement from my native town.

It's the become a theme in something I'm working on.

You drink coffee? Smoke tobacco's and herbs of varying strength and origin? Revel in blaspheming gpd till the wee hours of the morn, and enjoy eccentric, reclusive artistic individuals with a wide array of "analogue aspects, in an otherwise purely digital landscape" and roam like Rufus while you wax philosophical?

Holla sometime should you be moved to do so.

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