My missing eggs
What if it is on the second floor of a restored art museum and the men are wearing these identical tan jackets and there are lot of ironic giant bow-ties. Every other person is dressed up in costume. Some are identifiably from the handsmadestale. Others are just wearing unicorn things on their heads.
A young woman goes up and gives a speech about being the world coming to an end, society as we know it, due to technology and comparing yourself to others. She tells us the youth is going to go on despite not having any accomplishments like going to harvard or yale.
then the next speaker brags for an hour about his daughter going to columbia and then oxford, where he also went.
He tells a joke about his mother's dog, and people give him a standing ovation.
There is a long part about how the world is falling apart, it is the end of civility, and this room of people, eating tiny handburgers, were the ones tasked with saving it. I don't quite understand how.
He tells another story involving getting on an elevator to his hotel room with Kobe bryant and two goregous women. It did not however turn into a story about a kobe bryant threesome.
I meet a very nice woman with beautiful shoes. She tells me her first husband was also an architect.
Maybe next time marry a geologist, she gestures to her husband, "they are down to earth."
The geologist is very wealthy. Apparently he completed his Phd but the government had to keep his findings top secret. He is short and has a thick mustache which looks like a disguise.
I meet a poet with very large hands. He is one of the only black men at the gala. He looks like he should be taller, based on his shoulder arm ratio. He introduced me to his girlfriend, a very tall blond woman wearing a black jumpsuit. She is a close talker but not really making eye contact.
I don't know what to say to either of them.
I talk to a student about his story. While we are talking, a thick black hair blows across the white papers. I assume it is his beard.
All day, even though I changed my clothes, I keep smelling like a woman named Toca. She hugged me and she smelled like powder, and some of it must have stayed on me.
Tocca is very old, but apparently her mother is 90, so she must be younger than that. She always wears thick black glasses, and looks like she will fall over.
When she took off her glasses, I saw that she had the most beautiful torqouise eyes.
She tells me it is her dream to go to New Mexico and visit Taos. Because she dreamed about this place her whole life, and when she earched for it on the map, she found out it was in New Mexico. Then last year her son went, and described it to her.
I sat there, thinking about one nice thing I could say about her story. When I said it, she hugged me and now I smell like her.
Leaving the party I eat two bourbon balls, which kind of taste like some kind of energy bar, soaked in bourbon and then left in a jacket pocket for a while.
I realize all white people are starting to look alike.
I realize if no one cares about what clothes you are wearing, like at all, because they are all so old, it becomes actually meaningless to dress up.
A young woman goes up and gives a speech about being the world coming to an end, society as we know it, due to technology and comparing yourself to others. She tells us the youth is going to go on despite not having any accomplishments like going to harvard or yale.
then the next speaker brags for an hour about his daughter going to columbia and then oxford, where he also went.
He tells a joke about his mother's dog, and people give him a standing ovation.
There is a long part about how the world is falling apart, it is the end of civility, and this room of people, eating tiny handburgers, were the ones tasked with saving it. I don't quite understand how.
He tells another story involving getting on an elevator to his hotel room with Kobe bryant and two goregous women. It did not however turn into a story about a kobe bryant threesome.
I meet a very nice woman with beautiful shoes. She tells me her first husband was also an architect.
Maybe next time marry a geologist, she gestures to her husband, "they are down to earth."
The geologist is very wealthy. Apparently he completed his Phd but the government had to keep his findings top secret. He is short and has a thick mustache which looks like a disguise.
I meet a poet with very large hands. He is one of the only black men at the gala. He looks like he should be taller, based on his shoulder arm ratio. He introduced me to his girlfriend, a very tall blond woman wearing a black jumpsuit. She is a close talker but not really making eye contact.
I don't know what to say to either of them.
I talk to a student about his story. While we are talking, a thick black hair blows across the white papers. I assume it is his beard.
All day, even though I changed my clothes, I keep smelling like a woman named Toca. She hugged me and she smelled like powder, and some of it must have stayed on me.
Tocca is very old, but apparently her mother is 90, so she must be younger than that. She always wears thick black glasses, and looks like she will fall over.
When she took off her glasses, I saw that she had the most beautiful torqouise eyes.
She tells me it is her dream to go to New Mexico and visit Taos. Because she dreamed about this place her whole life, and when she earched for it on the map, she found out it was in New Mexico. Then last year her son went, and described it to her.
I sat there, thinking about one nice thing I could say about her story. When I said it, she hugged me and now I smell like her.
Leaving the party I eat two bourbon balls, which kind of taste like some kind of energy bar, soaked in bourbon and then left in a jacket pocket for a while.
I realize all white people are starting to look alike.
I realize if no one cares about what clothes you are wearing, like at all, because they are all so old, it becomes actually meaningless to dress up.