"Their assuredness comes from a mix-up in brain signals accompanying their marijuana high which grants latent Oedipal caregiver status to any female that brings them food." So astute, Clancy. You nailed it. Each tiny detail you gave - and there were many, had a purpose. You set the scene very carefully and sat me down in the booth next to them ( euw ). The setting and action were so clear, one knows that the author was writing from personal experience. Hah!
Where to eat and what to eat? These are the fundamental questions of our age. Hehe. I've experienced this thousands of times at this point. And usually, when the question comes up at the end of the day, I have not given it one single thought the entire day. I thought about food, for sure, but the question hits me as if I'm being asked where I want to be buried. Excellent story, Clancy.
I don’t know, somehow I don’t think I have ever been sad at a diner. Maybe, because, diners make great equalizers of their guests because of women like Rosa or my Joanie. Something comforting about them, but maybe that’s just the overflowing coffee.
i agree, it’s hard to be sad there. as long as you know what you want, you’ll be fine. you strike me as someone who would not ever sit at a booth and not know what you want
What stuck with me is how choice keeps getting deferred without anyone ever naming it. The diner feels less like a compromise and more like a ritual that protects them from having to want something out loud.
Even the menu reads like another version of the stroad. Endless options, no agency. By the time Marcus orders second, the decision’s already been made for him and the shame lands quietly instead of dramatically.
Did you always think of “ordering second” as the trigger, or did it just surface something he was already carrying?
"Their assuredness comes from a mix-up in brain signals accompanying their marijuana high which grants latent Oedipal caregiver status to any female that brings them food." So astute, Clancy. You nailed it. Each tiny detail you gave - and there were many, had a purpose. You set the scene very carefully and sat me down in the booth next to them ( euw ). The setting and action were so clear, one knows that the author was writing from personal experience. Hah!
I appreciate your choice of word mimesis.
thanks sharron! i’m not sure i ever had an experience like these two at a diner but maybe something like it.
Okay, maybe not in a diner, but surely the cannabis-induced munchies with a friend?
I was going to highlight that line as well - sharp, clever and made me laugh.
Food at US diners has its allure
Plenty of options always assured
But to elect a good king
To rule in the West Wing
Consumer choices are terribly poor
you're always picking up what I put down. these poems are incredible and I'm grateful for your readership mr Ghillis.
Right back at ya, CS.
Ain't it the truth...
I thoroughly enjoyed the exhaustion of brand names
haha thanks george. it wasn’t in vain—fits with the theme of the story, i hope.
This is the hangout film of short stories. Could easily see this in an early Kevin Smith flick.
hahah def has that vibe. thanks ray
Where to eat and what to eat? These are the fundamental questions of our age. Hehe. I've experienced this thousands of times at this point. And usually, when the question comes up at the end of the day, I have not given it one single thought the entire day. I thought about food, for sure, but the question hits me as if I'm being asked where I want to be buried. Excellent story, Clancy.
I don’t know, somehow I don’t think I have ever been sad at a diner. Maybe, because, diners make great equalizers of their guests because of women like Rosa or my Joanie. Something comforting about them, but maybe that’s just the overflowing coffee.
Well done, Clanc. Perfect Sunday read.
i agree, it’s hard to be sad there. as long as you know what you want, you’ll be fine. you strike me as someone who would not ever sit at a booth and not know what you want
I love this one. There’s just something about a diner…
thanks CS. It’s distinctly american, of course, which i think is appealing but also sad!
Sad, yeah! You’ve got me thinking now…
What stuck with me is how choice keeps getting deferred without anyone ever naming it. The diner feels less like a compromise and more like a ritual that protects them from having to want something out loud.
Even the menu reads like another version of the stroad. Endless options, no agency. By the time Marcus orders second, the decision’s already been made for him and the shame lands quietly instead of dramatically.
Did you always think of “ordering second” as the trigger, or did it just surface something he was already carrying?
oh yeah me too. surprised no one else said so. thanks MB!