Quiet Addicted

I've been considering going to Mexico to purchase large quantities of the
rarer varieties of medicine less available in the dear old U.S. of A. If
I could justify the airfare and damn flight time (a recent trip to SF from
NYC with a layover was just too much to deal with. What's worse is that
they charge 4 bucks for a single-serve bottle of red wine which has been
very chilled from sitting on the runway in 30 degree weather. A glass of
wine helps so much when flying. For some reason flying in the dark is
more comfortable too. Cultivating a script habit probably isn't the best
idea either.

This probably isn't a good idea for several reasons. An important reason
is that I need to save money if I'm going to get out of here. I really
believe it's time for me to leave my New York for a while. If God is
willing, I will change my life back towards something it should be,
something simpler and more real, more natural. Not natural in the
tree-hugging sense, since I'm also pretty sure that I'll be staying in
major cities for a while (until I get my license at least), but natural
meaning a less composed, efforted existence.

For a while I was getting a little chubby. I was drinking disgusting
amounts of beer on a daily basis. Then I switched to wine, which may have
been a little more expensive but was much better for me and much more
satisfying aside from terms of alcohol involved. I'm losing the chub.

The other night I had an orange sorbet served perfectly cold inside of an
unsplit orange peel. Somehow they cleanly got all of the orange out, and
had a nearly perfect cylinder cut off the top like a pumpkin
jack-o-lantern. Inside was the most delicious orange sorbet. When I
ordered, the bratty little waitress of the Italian cafe I was in quietly
expressed her disappointment that i wasn't eating a multiple course meal
and that I just wanted sorbet. She was from somewhere like Italy or
Greece, or maybe something like Estonia, who knows?