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Bardo Mar 2023
Been a long while since I was back in the city
  (at work)
Must be around two and a half years
The Old haunts... their all haunted now
Pubs I used to visit...frequent and frequently
  get a little bit drunk/tipsy in
I wonder am I still in there drinking still
I feel like if I went in I might see
  myself sitting in some corner there...

My favourite restaurant too where I used to
  eat
Every Friday afternoon with my    
  burger  black coffee and chips
Sitting in the window looking out at the
  world going by, the people passing
Glad to have made it through another week
Glad to have survived, glad to still be alive
I almost expect to see myself sitting there
  now.....

So many have gone, so many have left...
  retired, some even passed away
So many new younger faces around the place
I wonder "Am I too, on my way out"
Wherever I go all I hear are echoes of other
  times
See faces that remind me of someone else
It's like Life is moving relentlessly along
But I've been left behind some place.

I seen a face in the street that looked
  like myself when I was young
I just stood there and watched him disappear
  into the crowd
There's such an unreal ghostly feeling about
  the place
It's so strange coming back after being at
  home alone for so long.
Wrote this the first day after returning to work in the city after the Covid restrictions had been lifted, was very ghostly going back. Had been away (working from home) for over 2 years.
Lunar Luvnotes Apr 2016
To any hulk of an exec chef,  or any sous with little **** syndrome, if you think for a minute you're keeping your fingers after waving them in my face, your mistaken. Go ***** to someone else you say, point taken. I will dessimate you when you forsake me, just as my father did and many boyfriends. I pity your unborn baby, who will inherit your anger and yell like you, and if she's a girl, she will learn to put up with rage like yours. Your very pregnant wife has to shuck oysters just to keep her level eye on you. How smart. You flirt with everything. But even she can't save you from yourself, when you're hopped up on only God knows. Disrespecting the women from your wife's country, your child's lineage. I don't care how many drops run in your own blood, thats not a charge card to say racist **** on top of being an *******. I will always pray that you find your way, make your wife feel safe, para siempre, instead of coming onto women everytime she's not watching. Get right with God, walk straight. I cannot work in a hostile kitchen, I don't do this **** for these tips. When I don't even break a hundred a night, I'm calling it quits, and even when I did, I do not need to be extending my anxiety into a physical reality of shaking hands or jumbled words caught up in my throat. You see, when you raise your voice to me, my brain doesn't think, this man is my boss who can't hit me, my body is too busy bracing, for what muscle memory recalls, following similar stimulis before. If you talk to me like I am an idiot like my father did, if you raise your voice to me like he and all following abusers did, I just might cut you slow with my words, for I am indelibly OVER. THIS. ****. I quit Umberto after three years for his, so now I have a low tolerance. Insisting I can't do MY job, when it's not MY bad, if you're gonna take away my ability to defend myself, in a place I came to empower me, you better hope I feel merciful when you tell me to ***** to someone else when I say I don't appreciate the way you are speaking to us. I don't feel merciful, cuz I can't do this **** anymore. Getting in my face, saying I need to do my ******* job right if I want to take issue, cussing out a woman when I have done or said nothing wrong. I have always owned mistakes, if I said I did perfect this shift, you better back up off of it and stop talking to me like I'm some lying ******* idiot. Consider this my notice.
"Runner!" A tribute to food runners, cuz thats how chefs call us like dogs. The trick is finding where the best tips is, so that if they call you with a bell instead you have a pavlov situation but instead of pooling drool we're stacking bread.. at my second job I'm an expo so I get to do the yelling telling the kitchen what's happening, so if I don't yell loud enough I get yelled at. That's actually a good outlet for me I'm not gonna lie. If I was coked out I might also be too zealous.  Not really. My other job I'd never quit has nice chefs and I eat  and take home organic Italian for free. God is so good to me.

I'm not really turning this in or showing it to the sous it just felt good to write. The sous that inspired my luvnote to all coked out sous worked for  Umberto too, who is not to be put in a similar category cuz at least he's sober during the day and exercises his conscience most time after explosion of cursing in Italian. I don't do fine dining pressure for **** tips. I don't do sports bar classless for pooled house rations. And high pressure contention should never even ******* be mentioned in a ******* pan Asian sports bar. Period.

Yes I do realize PTSD doesn't mix well with kitchens and it'd appear I'm in the wrong industry, but there's money here, and hospitality comes naturally, yelling men only became challenging after my ex attached that to things so much worse than my dad. And id already known what it is to have that kind of money. I wasn't gonna give up on myself just cuz getting through a shift got harder. I just have to quit jobs everytime someone berates me, i can't take this anymore. Looking forward to doing hair mostly for my money instead tho.

— The End —