David Takeshi Yoshida

Welcome, youth! You like oysters? Not from New York? Fuck you too. Living in this city is the life of an oyster. Always somebody trying to find the crack so they can wiggle the knife in and pop you open, cut you off, suck you down, and shit you out. The only real thing of lasting value in this ex-paradise are the bridges. Everyone flows in and out. The recipes are always changing, because the service is the point. Earthly lust is for sale. Always someone shucking in the next room, and finding a true pearl is very, very rare. Here's a map of the colony; get ready to work, and try not to cut yourself. Best shave your head if you're serious about surviving. Don't be afraid that no one will see you, because no one is looking, no one cares, and no one will remember. We're all mollusks begging to be eaten alive. And in that case, I want oysters, champagne, and a cigarettte that never ends. I will get down on my knees. Tie my hands. Feed me.

Oysters were the staple of the New York City diet, regarded as infinite in supply. The food of the rich and the poor; the delicacy of American democracy. The rule that oysters are not to be eaten in months without an "r" in the name - May, June, July, August - is for preserving the spawing period of wild oysters. In New York City, breaking this rule was easily avoided by changing the spelling of the name of the month.

David Takeshi Yoshida, born 1994, lives in Vienna.