Harlem and Tropical Islands
I was walking in Harlem yesterday when I passed Popeye’s Chicken which is located next to the Metro North station. I was nearly knocked over by the scent of fried food. This was unlike anything I have ever experienced in my life. Seven feet onto the sidewalk and the air was soaked with fried food.
I like fried chicken. I do. It tastes good. Once in a while…..sure let’s have some Popeye’s (please note, I have not eaten Popeye’s Chicken since college) but the smell coming from that place was not that of food. It was a chemical smell that made me want to gag. People should not be eating that food.
You wonder why we have an obesity problem in this country.
On the flip side I have a nutritious and tasty meal with my home people up in Port Chester last night. It has been far too long since I went up to visit the place I called home for one month while I was relocating to NYC. Oh the memories…
I woke up on Monday morning and had a quick pep talk with myself…..
Ok, time to take some time off from going out. Time to get serious about finding an agent for your book. Time to go to the gym. Time to find a marathon to run for the fall. Time to find a new place to live.
I am giving serious consideration to moving to an island for a year. Why not? Nothing is holding me here. Go to someplace dirt cheap. Get a bike. Write all day. Hang on the beach. Learn a new language. Get out of the cold. All very appealing things. Why not? I’m 29, single, and I don’t even own a fucking plant that I have to water.
I have decided that editing my book is no fun at all and I do not like it. It beats going to work, but doing this is actually work. Very much so.
I could easily see myself owning a small beach bar in some tourist like town on an island. Or at least working at one.
I get far too much mail. No really……….I don’t like it. I have stacks of mail all over my apartment. Most of it garbage that I need to shred. What a waste.
Time to work on the book………..the new working title: The Neverending Story. What that has already been taken? Ok, guess we’ll stick with My Sober Year.