A gift for you. Meet art in action – the following is taken from Lisanti Quarterly, via preternaturally gifted LA-based wordsmith, Mark Lisanti. Enjoy.
“In Downtown Los Angeles, there is a restaurant/bar that sells French Dip sandwiches, called Cole’s. Through a door at the back of Cole’s is a small bar, called The Varnish, that serves artisanal cocktails. Through a smaller door at the back of The Varnish is a closet-sized room, called Transistor, in which a bartender sits upon a piano stool and pours a single shot of 20-year-old Scotch for each patron. Through a doggie-door at the back of Transistor is a smaller closet with a four-foot ceiling, called Phosphor, where a dwarf named Hibernius will take a swig from a bottle of absinthe, demand that you tickle his exposed scrotum with a peacock feather, messily spray the absinthe into your mouth once you comply with this off-putting request, then cackle in a disturbing fashion as he devours the feather.
There is no door at the back of this room.”
No – really. My pleasure. You can thank me later.