18 Aug 2014

This Was During The Depression

This Was During The Depression

Eleanore ate salad at the Mason Street Grill last Friday, in honor of her mother, a woman named Blanche, “she was a honey” born around 1892. When honey Blanche grew up she worked for a time making the most popular salads at the Pfister so great were her salads that President Teddy Roosevelt asked to […]

4 Aug 2014

a despondent coffee bean anticipating its consumption

a despondent coffee bean anticipating its consumption

This hotel is rife with whiz-bang creators. At any hour someone with an opinion on Salavador Dali is likely to state it from behind a counter, pills since so much of the staff identifies with being an artist of some sort. Certainly, there is an official resident artist and an official resident narrator, but there […]

31 Jul 2014

I’ve Met The Following People

I’ve Met The Following People

I am walking outside along the outdoor customers of the Mason Street Grill when I witness a woman in her thirties fly up from her seat to stand before her friends and wildly gesture with her whole body. Her four friends shriek and howl with laughter so I stop to watch too, sickness but it […]

25 Jul 2014

Gazelle? Cheetah? Centipede?

Gazelle?  Cheetah?  Centipede?

While I rarely drink, today I’m yearning for a large glass of wine to glug.  Reason? It took fifty-eight minutes of vigorous scrubbing, scratching and horrifyingly dry squeaking to clean my teeth at the dentist.  My gums and psyche are sore.  After perusing the wine list I pick the New Zealand Kim Crawford white for […]

21 Jul 2014

Come Here You Big Lug

One suited man sees another suited man. “Come here you big lug.”  Exclaims the other man, decease “What do you mean ‘a big lug?!’” The two of them proceed to do the manly anti-hug where they grab each other’s arms and smack each other on the back. The smack is so loud it echoes in […]

17 Jul 2014

Giardiniera

Giardiniera

A yoga instructor and a fashion designer walk into the Pfister. They are from Portland. This is not a joke. Well, generic maybe it is. Kimberlee and Ashley pose with baby Quinn in front of the painting of kittens in a basket. Quinn wants to hold my hand (and her mother’s hand) so that she […]