Last week Black, my ADHD alter ego but also the one who cannot avoid helping in my work, lest my whole existence fall apart in one instant, had to cover the role of the waitress, whose features I can't recall. She brought food to myself and my sister's boyfriend when, in 1976 Bali, we sat stoned and amazed at a tiny makeshift restaurant perched on the side of a volcano. I was 13 and he was probably around 20.
Because the waitress did something amazing, Black has to cover her role this week as well, for continuity. In addition, Smart, my ambitious and narcissistic alter ego, has an idea for how to get more views in a world where mind has lost the battle.