Grilled Cheese Brioche Taylor Swift Lazy Cafe Days

Spending a non day camped out at the place with the warm lamps and the bottomless cups.
Catching up on all those thoughts I stopped having sometime in between the end of the semester and the opening of the show.

Life raft and I are sharing a large rectangular handicap accessible four top. He seems to be composing. He's wearing the large black cushion-ey head phones and taping his thumbs feverishly over loose leaf graph paper and illegible notes. It's hot.

At the window is, I think, some kind of professor. He has a stack of stapled papers, and a really juicy red pen, and a white dress shirt, and a macbookpro, and a soda, and a bag that flips open, and a wedding ring, and, and, and. And he's murdering the paragraphs as he reads them, slashing them to the ground. And he just whispered an f-bomb. And, a few minutes ago, he exhaled the word "genius," not from a place of nurture or respect. The pages are double spaced. The spitting image of my driver's ed instructor. One of them. I think I had three.

In the corner, normal woman with iced tea. And possibly yogurt. In my blind spot.














The show is going well. Nina liked it. I think. Whatever 3.5 stars means. I'll tell you what 3.5 stars means, it means maybe the dates and times of the remaining performances will reach the living rooms of people who have to take metra trains, or four door vehicles to reach us. And, that's a win. I think.

I think I'd drive a hundred hours for a good ol' fashioned state fair. I'd kick up dirt, and guess how many pennies for as little as two stars.





A woman in a long coral colored sweater upon entering exclaimed "hi, I'm the one who just called about the cream puff!!!"








I talked to Mr. Smarty Pants about thesis stuff just before the semester ended and he said I could get away with a book of flash non-fiction. I'd just have to call it a novel in short chapters. I think. Sometimes it's hard to gather all of Mr. Smarty Pants' nuts if you know what I mean...? Don't get me wrong, he's great. I just get real nervous in the company of men. Especially when said man is in a position of authority. It took me a full calendar year before I could ask the head chef how his day was going.


I'll work on that.




I wish there were more women.




The Internet connection is suddenly real hazy at The Taste of Heaven.


Abrupt endings,
Skin & Toast