Pseudo-Restaurant "Review" : Otarian

A mountain arises from my forehead and the bloody roasted beet brings me back to the table.   Feta.  Feta Cheese and pumpkin seeds.  That milky tartness clears the way for slivers of silver shining back of the throat chomping into Pea Soup, warm inside this compostable cup.  Thin atop this compostable spoon.   I slide into a tired exercise, the one where I stop trying.

Surrounded by aesthetic reassurances, I read finely placed letters on an earthy brown napkin that reads "If Americans stopped eating meat, then we could feed all the Africans"...or something crass like that.   The whole experience becomes so peripheral that I refuse to even save a menu, or a napkin so I can get that quote right.   I just want to lose myself in the feta cheese and get the hell out of there.  I don't want to read about Otarian on the internet, that would be really easy.   I'd rather complain about how I'm confused -- about how this place can offer Carbon Karma Credits and be so "earth friendly" and yet still leave me with that same feeling I used to get after eating a Foot long Italian Delight from Subway to nurse a hangover in college.

 

"Everything is taken care of",

"No need to question the compostable cups"

or "Sun" Chips or

"the"

fountain sodas

or how "this" beet salad came to me in a dream,

and asked me to speak up about my own laziness.   

 

"How are you holding back?"  I was asked, and then I answered:

"I see where to go and don't go there."

"How are you holding back?" I was asked again.

"I get scared and lazy and run from the brilliant precision of things like economics"

"Thank You"  said the beet salad 

"How are you holding back?"

 

 

"How are you holding back?"

 

 

How are you holding back?