11:30 am – Awoke. Sprung out of bed.
Shot of espresso. Here’s a trick a Cuban taught me, mix light brown sugar into the water before brewing. Voila!
My barber does more than cut my hair. She brings out my true self. I sit down and start sharing. She listens and advises and trims my hair and massages my neck and puts a hot towel over my head then stretches my neck…she is one of a kind.
Made a didgeridoo from Lowes for $5. I recommend trying a few PVC dimensions out feeling your right fit. Remember, size doesn’t matter.
Did I dream about matzo ball soup last night? I feel like carrots and celery and matzo danced around me. Publix for the ingredients, CrockPot for the execution.
I invited my parents over for dinner, my father laughed at me when I mentioned we can have soup. Rude! I make them shrimp scampi and vegetable medley. The vegetables are seasoned until they’re unpalatable.
Here’s the vegetable medley recipe in case you want to poison someone:
- Diced potato
- Minced onion
- Sliced beet
- Handful of cranberries
- Add them to heat
Fort Lauderdale’s art district is called Fat Village. A industrial warehouse block that displays local artists handiwork. Whether it is paint on canvas, crafts like leather bow-ties or pop culture coasters, and a slew of artisanal tchotchkes that truly rely on beauty to be in the beholder’s eye. Get it? They’re ugly. Basically glue a piece of canvas to a piece of driftwood and slap a price on it. THIS IS ART, PAY ME FOR IT!!!
Now comes the fun part, dancing.
I can’t fully explain it but I sympathize for those that enjoy going out. I feel like each must have some mundanity to feel the need to dance in a nightclub. Now if you don’t know me, know this, I dance. A lot. But not to music. Just nervously twitched and flailing and bending and snapping. But I do it constantly, throughout the day. I walk with a beat in my step and knowing that some are getting intentionally drunk to overcome the inhibition to dance is sad. Why won’t you dance with me in the street? Why do you need strobe lights and overwhelmingly loud music and expensive libations?
Queue cacophony. Calloused, childish, queasy. If you frequent Fort Lauderdale’s Riverwalk and enjoy the nightlife, I don’t understand why… Don’t you want to converse and not shout? Digression. I kissed a girl and I liked it.
I kissed her outside America’s Backyard. We actually kissed there on Cinco de Mayonnaise. ‘Twas magical.
Ran into Starr Bergeron, need to pick her brain. Would love to know what she knows about Florida and wildlife and keeping a stable stable. Starr! If you ever read this, let me buy you a RAW Juice and pick your brain. K. Thanks.
5:40 am – Writing this blog post