Let’s Not Forget the Grapes

The grapes, oh no, we can’t forget the grapes.  I loved the grapes, saying, “these grapes remind me of wine.”  and I took a picture of D__ and J__ eating, and J__ was showing it to everybody because it was very animalistic of D__, where she looked as though she were at a feeding frenzy on the african savannah and just happened to look up for the camera.  It was a look of determination and lust for food and flavor and sustenance and celebration of all things wonderful.

and I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time, it was so poignant, so true, so much what the whole thing is about, tearing bits off and eating them goddamit.

There were portobello mushrooms, but I was too full to eat one, and after I was full, I only had room for more cake, not something potentially healthy and interestingly flavorful.

like I said, I just had a bit of red wine, and I didn’t even get a buzz because the wine bringers brought it too late.

there were 8 people there if you could only count to eight, but there may have been more if you could count higher.  we sat in the backyard, the concrete patio backyard shielded from the view of the motel dwellers by a high, 17.2 foot fence and morning glory vines.

and then I vomited all my food up into a huge puddle which covered the whole back patio to a depth of 5 inches.  everybody was up to their ankles in my vomit, and we all laughed at the stench.  It was fun.