19.07.02, 1400
A historic tabular configuration: A, S, S, T and myself in the ultra-soigne Restaurant 360, glass panelling inscribed with glib quotations tangentially relevant to food and the enjoyment thereof, sunlight-freshened vestibule containing eight shrink-office-type swivel chairs and Zen pebble landscaped-ashtrays. Not quite 360 degree view of nascent waterfront developments, trawling boats and The Nangka. As A has suppressed his foreknowledge I blindly order a catastrophic garble of an entree, tuna tataki with marinated couscous in tomato and watermelon consomme. On second thought, I have only myself to blame. How could I possibly not have sensed the disorderly constructedness, the shrieking disjuncture? Fishy and fruity? What was I thinking. What were they thinking. Also what the hell is tankatsu. Parcelled red mullet and mushroom ragout better, mascarpone ice cream full of throat-abrading sediment. A pleasant white selected by A, slick, sanguine and honeyed. Conversation is stilted, disgracefully so for a group whose members are more or less strung together by extant strands of relation, however tenuous.
* * *
Disco Dancing Darryl threatens to appear this night, but the recrudescence is disrupted by Dutifully Disparaging Darryl, who is a bit stuporous owing to the day's irregular meal schedule. He however readily obliges to vegetating at the Milkbar with A, who, finding the company insipid, plays an absoultely riveting game of snakes and ladders with himself.
[The events which follow this have been deemed inappropriate material for public disclosure and are for the participants' relish only.]
A historic tabular configuration: A, S, S, T and myself in the ultra-soigne Restaurant 360, glass panelling inscribed with glib quotations tangentially relevant to food and the enjoyment thereof, sunlight-freshened vestibule containing eight shrink-office-type swivel chairs and Zen pebble landscaped-ashtrays. Not quite 360 degree view of nascent waterfront developments, trawling boats and The Nangka. As A has suppressed his foreknowledge I blindly order a catastrophic garble of an entree, tuna tataki with marinated couscous in tomato and watermelon consomme. On second thought, I have only myself to blame. How could I possibly not have sensed the disorderly constructedness, the shrieking disjuncture? Fishy and fruity? What was I thinking. What were they thinking. Also what the hell is tankatsu. Parcelled red mullet and mushroom ragout better, mascarpone ice cream full of throat-abrading sediment. A pleasant white selected by A, slick, sanguine and honeyed. Conversation is stilted, disgracefully so for a group whose members are more or less strung together by extant strands of relation, however tenuous.
* * *
Disco Dancing Darryl threatens to appear this night, but the recrudescence is disrupted by Dutifully Disparaging Darryl, who is a bit stuporous owing to the day's irregular meal schedule. He however readily obliges to vegetating at the Milkbar with A, who, finding the company insipid, plays an absoultely riveting game of snakes and ladders with himself.
[The events which follow this have been deemed inappropriate material for public disclosure and are for the participants' relish only.]
posted by D at 11:37
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