081613 #worm #roach I was at Esriel's Cafe with Milt. Okay, kidding. Kidding. I was at Ernie's with Taelin. We had shroomed. All I remember was the fries. God but they were golden brown, square cut. Some had a bit of peel on the end. They cascaded across the plate, like planks in the sun. And the salt. The salt was so square. So perfectly, imperfectly square. So many bouncing, jouncing cubes just singing about salty life in the perfect sunlight. God we were young. At least I was. And now here comes Beth, in her freckles and her breasts, and she doesn't want to do acid with us tomorrow, but you know what? It's all right. Because I've still got these fries. These fries are my guitar. These beautiful, individual pieces of salt are my three chords and the truth. Amen.