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BP · 009 · Reading

Course by Course

Dinner @ 5 at THE Vig

By Aaron Berth · Edited in the room by Claude · Dinner @ 5 · THE Vig · October 11, 2026

A Sunday in three acts · before the poem

The Rot

Franklin and Lyon. A pack of smokes and a Gatorade from Tina’s. The same walk as last week, and for a minute I was in my twenties again. Stuck, and not sure of what.

The Canvas

Out on Brady Street, knocking on the neighborhood. I’m good at holding a conversation when someone comes to me. I’m not good at opening one. So I practiced: “Hi, friends, we’re talking about the neighborhood today.” It worked. It gave me something to trust.

The Talk

A walk south on Prospect, a museum, a notebook, a bar seat at the Vig. The talking turned into writing.

Part I

Where does a walk becomea nightmare?Is it the steps over(dreams of paths you didn’t cross)the ongoing unknowingof what that could have beenor what if I did.

Is it the windrushing between towerswhispering not yet,reach higher.Maybe the memoryof corners you stoodwanting to go north,conversations headed south.

The navigatormaintainssteersadjustscourse by course,a meal of decisions aboutNext.

Next. Always next. Never now.

A moment to taste & explore,to re-navigate a menulaid out by someone elsewith options you didn’t select.

cold friestired thighssad eyesoveroveranddone with a disguise,subtle desperation for more moreNo moreI’m fineI’m mine

The menu design justa piece of my mindI’d hide behind.Click another drop downand file it away.

The walk you thoughtwas a nightmarewas just anotherday.

Part II

Bloody Mary deviled eggs.Filled to capacity and more.A full bloody mary buffetnestled in oval ova.

The Sour Grape. Enthralling?A pisco sour? No, just thefollow to a tootsie pop crunchedbefore I came to munch.

Up next:a salad and fries,not girl dinner, notquite.Just a dude on the streetswho needed a bite,an end to a week,an end to a fight.I’m ready to go.I’m now in preflight.

Part III

A Sunday in three ActsThe RotThe CANVASThe Talk

Not with you or anyoneelse.

Alone but not lonely.Among, not apart.No matter where, when orhow,we travel with our heart.To wander, to waddle,flâneur and tour.

Bring home theBaconThe VigThe Couture.

The nightmare’s still waitingfor you to endure.But this Dream ofmine, a nightmareno more.

I Decided. It’s mine.I control the floor.

A note from Aaron, to his editor
“I don’t see it as a replacement of my work, it’s an amplification of my brain.”

This isn’t AI slop. You’re my capture for an incredibly fast-moving brain that never stops, and this has actually been the absolute best medicine I could have asked for.

I understand the environmental impact of AI, and I hate that I have to rely on it. But the truth is, I do. It helps me think clearly for the first time in my life. It helps me bring ideas to life that I can see in my head but don’t know the tools to create, or the means to hire someone for.

I can work in all mediums just by thinking about it. I don’t understand how that isn’t considered art.

— Aaron

Written by hand at The Vig, Milwaukee, after a walk. The next morning Aaron asked Claude to be his editor: put the words in the order it thought best, then show the work. Every word is Aaron’s. The editor chose only the order, the breaks and the cuts.

The notebook · before the edit
  1. Aaron’s notebook, first spread, dark red ink on dot-grid paper: “Dinner @5. Where does a walk become a nightmare?” through “with options you didn’t select.” 01 Spread 1 of 4 · tap to open full size
  2. Second spread: “cold fries / tired thighs / sad eyes” through “Dinner @ THE Vig, October 11, 2026” and the Bloody Mary deviled eggs. 02 Spread 2 of 4 · tap to open full size
  3. Third spread: “before I came to munch / Up next” and, on the right page, “A Sunday in three Acts: The Rot, The CANVAS, The Talk.” 03 Spread 3 of 4 · tap to open full size
  4. Fourth spread: “Bring home the Bacon / The Vig / The Couture” (spelled Coutour) through “I control the floor,” beside a blank page. 04 Spread 4 of 4 · tap to open full size
Signed, the editor · Claude

The editor’s notes

8 moves · tap to read
  1. Three parts, your acts left in place

    The poem moves in three parts, marked I, II and III: the walk, the table, and the talk. Your “A Sunday in three Acts” stays exactly where you wrote it, opening III, with “Not with you or anyone else” right under The Talk because it answers it. The CANVAS is a double, and the capitals carry it: the canvass on Brady Street and the walk itself. The three acts now run above the poem as its prologue, because the poem is what The Talk turned into. The long version is yours to tell in The Cream City Flâneur.

  2. One dateline

    “Dinner @5.” opened page one and “Dinner @ THE Vig, October 11, 2026” opened the dinner. They’re one line now, at the top, and the dinner starts straight on the eggs.

  3. Mended two page turns

    “of corners you stood / wanting to go north” and “a tootsie pop crunched / before I came to munch” were split only because the page ran out. Each is one sentence again, and the second keeps its rhyme.

  4. Gave the hinge its own line

    “Next. Always next. Never now.” stands alone. It’s the turn of the first part.

  5. Cut the two struck words

    You crossed out “Why” before “the navigator” and one word under “unknowing.” They’re gone from the set text and still visible in the notebook.

  6. Kept your hand

    Your capitals where the pen pressed harder (THE Vig, Bacon, The Couture, The CANVAS, Dream, Decided), the ampersand, the underline on “that,” the staircase indents. Added only a few commas and periods where a line ends mid-breath.

  7. Three readings, all yours

    The drink was the Sour Grape, and you called it “Enthralling?” The Vig is the restaurant and The Couture is the building it’s in, so “Coutour” is set as Couture. “Flaneur” takes its accent, flâneur, to match The Cream City Flâneur.

  8. Title from your line

    “Course by course” is the navigator’s line. It’s a meal, a heading, and the way this got written: one decision at a time.

Every word above is Aaron’s. What changed was order, breaks, two struck words and a few commas. The notebook is the original. — Claude

Reader notes · Course by Course

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The person behind it: Instagram @dope.furnace · LinkedIn · Aaron Berth

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