06 March 2016

5 Views of McGill's McLennan Premiere Moisson Cafeteria


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(NO PICTURES EXPRESS THIS PLACE PROPERLY)
I. On disgusting smells
Nothing that disgusting can be good / for proper study arrangements for a chink. / Head chink in charge is always down, though, for / some stupid white kids yelling in the back. / At the same time random forty year olds / will come around and microwave some strange ass /
foods that make the place smell like a mall / cafeteria mixed with chink washroom. 

A chink is really down for fetid stu- / dy spaces reminding him of the shit he is. / Well, here, a chink really is slumming / but something distinctly beautiful about the PM /caf reminds me of the pungeant sewer / smells of Chinatown—Gotta channel the chink.  

II. On the white kids
This cafeteria is a good reminder / that the world isn’t full of white people / and a good escape from the constant stream /of stan smiths, distressed blue jeans—HA. / A chink isn’t wholly right on this account— / a chink’s seen white people wear leather jeans. / And some white people do take it out of themselves / to wear non-adidas, non-jeans clothing.

Luckily, the place offers a chink a different view / of white kids. At the proper studying hours / after eleven, very few people stay. / The ones that do go, bring homemade meals, don’t wear / homeless clothing at any price, and don’t / strut their superiority. Nice people.

III. On the other chinks (FOBs)
Hate these fucking chinks. It’s these fobs / that make us all look bad.  Fucking FOB / ass chinks playing their bitch ass video games / on school internet and shit. Damn bruh, / what happened to Chinese values of being a man / who reads poetry and keeps quiet. Shit, / sometimes these chinks have birthday parties in the fucking / library. Can you say deportation?

Luckily, all chinks are different right? / Lolno, master can’t see difference between / this chink and some random fob ass chink / wearing HBA, Yeezys, with / a fucking mushroom cut. Bruh. Do what / you gotta do, but don’t bring me down.

IV. On the décor
Beautiful, probably pretentious cedarn picnic / benches are tempered by fluorescent lights / and vermeil painted walls that clash with everything. / Two benches: one of round seats and those wack / ass round metal band backs and another / of actual cedar planks nailed together. / A gaudy orange juice pressing machine / then mixes the damp urine smell with citrus.  

Chip bags are intermittently forgotten, / gilding all the indoor picnic bench tables / strewn with fragrant PM croissant crumbs. / The cedar sometimes gets a facelift / when the coffee fiends spill everywhere / and there’s a film of treacly brown tincture.

V. On the food variety
The vending machines are the salve of man. / Seven of them line the walls outside the washrooms / that overflow with piss, and the oppressive humidity it creates. / Luckily a chink can buy some monsters so he / can be pissing and posing when he’s studying. / The vending machines take credit card. HA. / Why can’t there be fruit vending machines? Lol.

Instead, we got some sour cherry fruit /blasters, Swedish berries, fuzzy peaches, / SOUR SKITTLES, YES LAWWWD, various forms / of stale chips, strange looking pretzels coated / with a deathly gray syrup? and some / granola bars, and a wallmounted coffee dispenser.

Through the midpoint of the line drawn through the wall
janitors walk in and out sporadically
The detail of the pattern is—
cleaning up failure and urine

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