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| - Chapter 1: The PaliSADe
All those hours spent waiting to repair my i-____ and never repairing my I and I. The torment. The colours. The insidious off-gassing. On a hot day, Apple had tied me to this crystal palace of polyester ether and I was roaming like a sick cat finding a culvert to die in, which is to say, I hadn't eaten or checked my emails All Day.
Chapter 2: Pleasure in a Dark Corner
I always avoided Mercatto's corner of the mall because the vertical neighbour (Greenjeans?)'s vines and lights looked like a bayou molester. But I noticed this spot below - a surprisingly nice Italian restaurant that looks onto a courtyard!
"Que l'inferno!", I thought. Meaning, what the heck, in Italian.
Chapter 3: Apologeum
I have been "tolerant" of new agers telling me that spiritual repair does not come in the form of fried calamari and a glass of Canonnau, but let's not kid ourselves. The space was dark, lively but still breezy from the outside access. The wine was the thing - a nice cannannou for $12 tasted like cherries dipped in chocolate and mud. The calamari was crunchy and hot and bad for me. A glass of pinot grigio finished it off, crisp and clean. I sat and munched and sipped. I thought about nothing and it was good. Maybe I drew a bird.
The waitress was spot on with service and very kind, especially since I was on a date with a computer.
Conclusion: Don't Get Anal at the Mall, Get Bacchanal and Have It All!
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