I found a hipster taking a photograph of my Vespa. I took his picture back. Everybody likes them. I don't know why everybody doesn't have one.
Vespas, I mean, not hipsters.
Day two of the vacation was spent trying to get over day one. Dopey me. Mimosas, or rather something Ili called a Poinsettia, champagne and pomegranate juice. Lunch at a gastro-whatever, a southern fried chicken sandwich or something. A trip to the art store to get something framed. Beauty treatments for one of us while the other putzed around. Then an evening argument that was so unnecessary. Sad makeup, soulful songs.
We bear the burdens of our existence.
I lay in bed, but didn't sleep. Christmas pressure. I am horrible at it. I am happier alone at Christmas, I think. I can't buy presents. How does one buy presents? I went to the Tiffany website. I could afford a Tiffany wire. I mean, that's what it looks like.
"Oh, poor thing. He got you the Tiffany wire? How do you stand it?"
Earrings? Who knows what someone would like. I looked at Louis Vuitton bags. Again, who knows? I'd rather spend the money for two airline tickets. Let's go to Cuba. . . Mexico. Hell, we could go to Santa Fe. It would be fine.
I am up and worried. I have to make a decision. I have to come up with something. I don't know what other people want. I know what I want, but it doesn't translate. I am out of my league.
So I'm a mess this winter's morning. I'm supposed to be chill, but my nerves are in tatters. Suddenly I feel there is too much to do. I was going to travel around the state, talk to people, get stories. I know I had it here in my head (finger pointing).
Suddenly things are associations rather than integrated units. I mean, there seems to be no real connection between them.
Well, I've got a day to figure it out, I guess. I feel like someone on an iceberg floating in a rising sea.
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