god damn this summer, and
customers. maybe people in general, but specifically some of my daily restaurant customers.
i'ts bad enough to be awake on purpose at 4am every morning,
"motherfucker deserves to eat spit," i grumble to the dishwasher as i prepare the picky-bastard-who-came-in-five-minutes-till-close's breakfast order, "but they ain't getting it from me today."
fact: in the seven years i've been cooking professionally, i've never spit in or tainted any food, no matter how disrespectful or inconsiderate the customer may have been.
anyway, somewhere in the kind words i read that it's better to tell a lie that prevents a war than to tell a truth that starts one.
i can't describe it further here.
god damn this summer, and
aside from the weather, another season has changed, the clouds have dropped eggshells from here to the horizons, and the dance has become tiresome, the machine threatens to break apart.
the life of work fueled by fear, cliffwalking again.
ever stop to consider how many people's feelings yr truth may directly affect?
it's what defines the posture of yr soul; it's the constant yoga session of you.
how must you stand and move to balance all these fragile little jars?
knowing that the truth changes is the teeth on yr tongue.
god damn this summer, and
these odds.
customers. maybe people in general, but specifically some of my daily restaurant customers.
i'ts bad enough to be awake on purpose at 4am every morning,
"motherfucker deserves to eat spit," i grumble to the dishwasher as i prepare the picky-bastard-who-came-in-five-minutes-till-close's breakfast order, "but they ain't getting it from me today."
fact: in the seven years i've been cooking professionally, i've never spit in or tainted any food, no matter how disrespectful or inconsiderate the customer may have been.
anyway, somewhere in the kind words i read that it's better to tell a lie that prevents a war than to tell a truth that starts one.
i can't describe it further here.
god damn this summer, and
aside from the weather, another season has changed, the clouds have dropped eggshells from here to the horizons, and the dance has become tiresome, the machine threatens to break apart.
the life of work fueled by fear, cliffwalking again.
ever stop to consider how many people's feelings yr truth may directly affect?
it's what defines the posture of yr soul; it's the constant yoga session of you.
how must you stand and move to balance all these fragile little jars?
knowing that the truth changes is the teeth on yr tongue.
god damn this summer, and
these odds.