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Friendly little mud-cafe

So the story behind this one–there was a little thrift store, one of the “staffed by your grandmother” thrift stores–I don’t know her, she’s probably a fine woman, but all grandmothers, eventually, work in thrift stores. And I’m guessing someone had died, and left them a vast panoply of crappy oil paintings. Mutant children holding baskets, still lives of the damned, all that good stuff.

And this lovely little cafe. I imagine that if you’re on whatever boulevard it is that dead-ends on Hieronymus Bosch’s “Garden of Earthly Delights,” you just take a right turn on Washington and then there’s this delightful little restaurant that nobody knows about, where you’re always welcome if you don’t mind that your chairs are in a river of either blood or chocolate, the walls are rusted steel, and dark, billowing clouds of brown smoke swirl through the streets.

8-29-10TxThrftPainting2

As the fumes over the river burst into lovely white flames, the mushroom-capped ladies of the evening applauded politely. Those that had legs, or a leg, stood in appreciation. The others hoped that they would stay on their chairs this time, and not fall into the river. Nobody wanted to fall into the river.

8-29-10TxThrftPainting1

 

Texas Thrift near 51st and I35, Austin

March 4, 2013   TV's Jacob
Uncategorized bad art

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One Response to “Friendly little mud-cafe”

  1. Reply
    hotclaws / 5 Mar 2013 4:44am #

    I like the impossible veranda blind.Maybe it’s the Ohio river?

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