Hmm.
This weekend I dropped acid and saw the Aleph in a smoked meat sandwich. I was in this Montreal bar called Zoobizarre that looks kind of like a medieval dungeon/wine cellar and as I started peak while watching kaleidoscopic video and listening to drone music my stomach was hit like with a giant mallet of hunger. A quick reconnaissance mission to "le Roi du Smoked Meat" not just only filled the hunger gap, but provided a religious ecstasy worthy of Hildegard von Bingen in the form of a soft marbled with fat smoked meat sandwich. It was perhaps one of the most satisfying things I've ever eaten in my entire life.
Later I would watch my gold ceiling swirl in paisley patterns reminding me of Coleridge:
Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire :
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam ; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.
Except in my case the ship was a bed of devastating comfort.
After that what can you do but jump out in the day in snakeskin loafers and have Persian breakfast. Persian breakfast - refined, dainty, civilized - it makes you realize how terribly garish almost everything you eat is in comparison. Breads with orange blossom jam, a tiny roll of nuts, herb, and goat cheese, a lightly whipped omelette with the faint flavor of roses. Makes you want to swathe yourself in silks and go open an opium den in Morocco.
After that street browsing - elegant hats from Belgium and leather bags from Italy and handmade crowns from Montreal as a way to spend the new paycheque.
And today a stunning event of bittersweet fortune - met a girl on the bus reading my all time favorite book of philosophy - the sublime the Poetics of Space by Gaston Bachelard. Apparently she's to do a drawing project based off a chapter. A beautiful girl from the BC Gulf Islands studying art and poring over Bachelard. Le sigh. No one I know (to my knowledge) has read this relatively obscure and most excellent of books.
I'm trying to bury myself in work, but it's hard not to think of girls, esp. since it's spring and they're wearing fantastic pattered mod dresses and things.
This weekend I dropped acid and saw the Aleph in a smoked meat sandwich. I was in this Montreal bar called Zoobizarre that looks kind of like a medieval dungeon/wine cellar and as I started peak while watching kaleidoscopic video and listening to drone music my stomach was hit like with a giant mallet of hunger. A quick reconnaissance mission to "le Roi du Smoked Meat" not just only filled the hunger gap, but provided a religious ecstasy worthy of Hildegard von Bingen in the form of a soft marbled with fat smoked meat sandwich. It was perhaps one of the most satisfying things I've ever eaten in my entire life.
Later I would watch my gold ceiling swirl in paisley patterns reminding me of Coleridge:
Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire :
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam ; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.
Except in my case the ship was a bed of devastating comfort.
After that what can you do but jump out in the day in snakeskin loafers and have Persian breakfast. Persian breakfast - refined, dainty, civilized - it makes you realize how terribly garish almost everything you eat is in comparison. Breads with orange blossom jam, a tiny roll of nuts, herb, and goat cheese, a lightly whipped omelette with the faint flavor of roses. Makes you want to swathe yourself in silks and go open an opium den in Morocco.
After that street browsing - elegant hats from Belgium and leather bags from Italy and handmade crowns from Montreal as a way to spend the new paycheque.
And today a stunning event of bittersweet fortune - met a girl on the bus reading my all time favorite book of philosophy - the sublime the Poetics of Space by Gaston Bachelard. Apparently she's to do a drawing project based off a chapter. A beautiful girl from the BC Gulf Islands studying art and poring over Bachelard. Le sigh. No one I know (to my knowledge) has read this relatively obscure and most excellent of books.
I'm trying to bury myself in work, but it's hard not to think of girls, esp. since it's spring and they're wearing fantastic pattered mod dresses and things.
VIEW 25 of 25 COMMENTS
Alternately, I suppose you could've just been really drunk/high, so as to be completely off your usual snarky-ass game...
If you want, I can allude to your shirt in the title.
But I don't doubt you about the Dinosaur Jr. I'm so excited I could pass out. Fifteen years I've loved them!