The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
- exerpt from The Second Coming by WB Yeats.
Have I mentioned this poem before? It's one of my all-time favourites (mainly for "its slow thighs" - what an image!). These words in particular feel appropriate for certain happenings in my world, or just the sense of what might happen. I'm being dramatic of course. There will be no actual blood shed. Not literal blood anyway. Never mind. What will be will be. In any case, they are also rather shallowly appropriate because today Ryan and I spent a good chunk of our day working at one of my latest favourite joints, The Falconer. It has old, green, completely unpretentious booths to sit in, pleasing food that is both gourmet and healthy (except for their chocolate self-saucing pudding which I spied in another booth on the other side of the room, and which looked decidedly evil (and fucking awesome)), and a record player on which they spin really cool music pretty much all the time. I am all about record players right now. I don't own one but I want to (add it to the list). Anyway, The Falconer is a very good place to work. We feel happy and at home there. And the staff don't mind if you hog a booth for ages (especially when you hog on snacks, coffees and lemonades the way me and Ryan do - well not actually lemonades for me but, oh whatever). Come to think of it, if the shit did hit a la The Second Coming, The Falconer might be a good place to hole up in. Good tunes, cosy booths and chocolate pudding: a happy place in which to weather the storm.
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