I'm at the Pfister for breakfast on a Sunday—for my Sunday Project! Not going to take much time today—sitting by the front like last time I came here. Which I don't mind since I like seeing people come and go—but it's the shit table, for sure. I think this place is a little snobby. It's not outrageously expensive, but it's not cheap—and it's inconsistent. I mean—there's gluten-free toast—but one piece. What is that shit? I might have to switch Sunday Project to another location—unless I can just get into complaining. They have a flat screen TV on the wall that's put into an old, gold frame—which is kind of brilliant, and funny, but still kind of sad because it's a flat screen TV! One thing about this place, you don't have to worry about being kind of disheveled (which I always am) just because it's a fancy hotel—this is the butthole of the hotel, I guess—people here—some of them—look like they rolled right out of a pool of vomit. There was an old guy wearing flipflops and shorts that looked more like boxer shorts than shorts—they probably were! Anyway, come on—one piece of toast, with no butter. Fuck that! (Though at least they don't charge extra.)
This is the third (after “Memoir” and “Notebook Journals”) online journal consisting of entries typed from notebook pages. Presented here in chronological order, starting at the beginning of 2016 and continuing on, until death do us part.
(Please Note: This is in "Blog" format, so to read journals in chronological order, start at the bottom, with the oldest post first, and read upward.)