12/27/19
Artichokes
Evidently, he was six two. Been to Rome and surrounding towns. Unending talking about gypsy tea, beef fajitas, military culture, and dining room dynamics. Two bottles of wine sat almost empty on their advertisement filled table top.
The artichokes were good this evening, flavorful and firm. The chicken, usually a bit rubbery, was rubbery again. Crusty bread and marinara is the actual reason people continue to come. Bring your own blush wine.
On and on, croutons, cheap friends, international connections, McDonald Street directions, the woman never talked. 'Love and marriage, go together like a horse and a carriage, let me tell you brother, can't have one without the other.' Italians must tap their toes for hours. Absurdity, it is an epidemic. Self help gurus and the power of positive thought. Begin with the end in mind, 5 years, a decade, whatever is reasonable. Must do it myself, declare my own life, in service to others. This floating is nice.
Then more nonsense: check confusion, wedding financials, impaired driving jokes, New Year well wishes. A peace hovered finally. The six two dude left, walking with an old limp. He was not six two. His young fiance and lonely bald friend along with him, it was quiet enough to hear the music now. Sinatra, still cool, big band backing.
The Cuckoo's Nest
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