Saturday, September 06, 2003

It may just be coincidence, but I suspect that living with a stoner correlates highly to burnt out light bulbs, owing to forgetfulness. Seems as if bulbs that I just replaced are burnt out again. Crazy. 11:58:20 AM

I'm thinking that maybe a good name for this blog would be coherent lunacy. 1:59:41 AM

Tonight at work, the executive chef announced a contest. Bottle of wine prize. First it was going to be highest per average, then they decided to have it be the highest sales of the oysters on the half shell, with minimum requirements three sales. My last table of the night, long after I'd assumed someone else had sold a half dozen, and myself only two (as in units of sales, versus dozens of oysters, but they are mathematically equivalent, regardless), a young woman's eyes lit up when she heard about the Pemiquid oysters. When she ordered, I asked if her eyes had widened with wonder or disgust at the prospect of oysters. She said she loved fresh shellfish, but she did not have equivalent financial resources. I told her I understood. After a night of abundant harvest myself, I decided I could afford some of my ridiculous tips to buy the woman some oysters. She almost cried when I brought them out and told her they were on me. Turns out, I was the only one to sell the minimum qualifying entry of three. Turns out the table ended up tipping me over 40%, more than making up for the cost of the oysters. Turns out the bottle of wine was corked, and I could tell because the bottle's neck was cracked, presumably from hulk like yeast reactivating and bursting small fissures. Rick let me pick out another equivalent bottle, after I bitched about that having been the bottle I'd won in the last contest anyway, that they couldn't calculate on the computer and so didn't award, despite my being able to recite the exact 8 desserts I'd sold to the exact tables I'd sold them to, out of the 20 total desserts ordered that night, and bitched that when I finally do get my just reward, David's trying to kill me with a bad bottle of wine, and that I wasn't interested in participating in any more of his booby-trapped "contests," designed, like some ancient ancient god to root out and destroy any of his progeny that may eventually eclipse his own dynasty. And then on the way home I had a sense of elation that maybe the real contest after all, like some David Timley's Nouveau American Asian Fusion Factory (which is not to dis his food, which I really, really like to eat, and really, really like to sell), was not the contest itself, but the crack in the bottle, the Everlasting Gobstopper of entry into some magical wine cellar of delights. But that I couldn't eat it or drink it after all, that the contest would only ultimately be won by saying, here, you can have this back, and actually returning the corked wine bottle. Alas, I'll never know. In talking about mental illness with some coworkers tonight, taking the linens out at the end of the night, it dawned on my that when people seem as if they're from another dimension, I wonder if they indeed are, existing in our parallel world, but dimensions away, so that their reality is either entirely reflected in a completely different world, or they see ours through distorted lenses. I wonder if psychotropic drugs and other remedies somehow, despite what we measure as their chemical effect on the brain, all serve the same function, of simply placing a wandering soul firmly in the dimension to which they were really only visiting. And if those otherworlds, having sent out astronauts to observe our world, get really mad when we keep capturing their explorers, taking them out of contact with their home galaxies, and send major investigative parties. Which, of course, would manifest itself as more and more crazy people, until the world itself would be completely invaded and brought to the brink of complete destruction, where our society would either be destroyed or require a rebuilding, one that would require thousands and thousands of years before anything close to astronaut capturing meds would be developed. Allowing them to simply explore, and maybe even communicate with someday, our planet and our people.   1:14:26 AM