P. F. Chang’s China Bistro
Emeryville, CA
Cormac M. | Author | Lost in the chaparral, NM
Two stars.
You think that I am petty. You think that I am self important. I am nothing. I am a vessel. I am a crucible in which truth resides for a brief instant. I hear the stillsmall voice of God and I bow before it in ecstasy and He speaks not in the obscenity of man’s tongue but in stars torn from heaven. One star. Four stars. And I keep a reckoning. So that others may know and heed the voice. Know that God has been here. And that we fail Him. Time and time again. The ambiance. The speed and courtesy of the waitstaff. The soap in the men’s bathroom. You wish to plead with me, to bargain. You cannot. Try to offer a free dessert to the universe, to truth. You will fail. So take these stars and know they are heavensent. I will not be returning.
I’ll stop reblogging these when they stop being the greatest thing on the internet.
