Your Life is Meaningless

I stumbled upon this entry in yelp while checking out a chinese restaurant.  I thought it was hilarious.

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When the fog comes in, you walk down Balboa Street. You see the lights of the stark, undecorated dining room. You sit. The waiter comes. He is quiet. You order broccoli cashew chicken and spicy eggplant.

The waiter sits down. A moment passes.

The 31 goes by. A foghorn is heard in the distance.

You realize you’re the only diner.

Another moment passes.

Yet another moment passes.

Your life is meaningless.

The Richmond District.

Live it.

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The Richmond district is where Judy and I live.  It’s not as hopeless a place as the writer makes it out to be.  But there is something very sad about eating Chinese food by yourself in an empty restaurant.

Nothing like a little existential philosophy to go with your chinese food!

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