The missus is off on one of her fashion shows and I've just poured myself a glass of Muscat from our visit to Australia last year. The Cohiba is lit up but a little dry cause the humifier went dry. Simply cause and effect - I should have known.
It's 74 degrees outside and the sun is bursting through the protective blinds surrounding our apartment windows. I've opened up some of them to let in the calm fall breeze. This could be Cuba, Miami or Buenos Aires right now. I've my favorite playlist blasting out "Outro Lado' by Zuco 103 from the oversized and underutilized 4-feet tower speakers.
My mind has been preocupied with work, future house purchase and everything else rational, practical, planning-oriented, taking-care-of-your-family kind of stuff. I hate the logical planning; I wish I just had a closet full of dough that I could visit when I needed more. A never ending source of currency so I could focus my attention on the things that I really care about: food, wine, travels, cigars, writing, movies, dinners, interesting conversations, music, vintage sport cars, innovative technology (could be a better tooth brush) and just instant living.
Sometimes I wish life was as easy as the smoothest bossa nova song, slowly tip-toeing over the hot sand to get to the cooling Margarita bar across the beach. Solely wearing a pair of speedo's, a pair of oversized sunglasses and a thin Guavera shirt with a single pocket for the hotelroom key and a cigar. The lighter I'll get at the bar. One needs some sort of carrot in the life of no externally poised demands.
I can see a big white truck on the Golden Gate bridge from our pad. Most likely just the reflection of another SUV coming into the city carring yet another Silicon Valley worker, his wife - constantly on the phone - and a handful of kids watching TV on the LCD screens in the backseat. All heading for the buffe at Alfie's to enjoy Sunday togetherness.
'La Revancha del Tango" by Gotan Project has replaced the Brazilian vibes; giving a glimpse of hope, that even if the fall is decending on our pale working bodies the spring is rising in the land of passion.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment