Journal Entry 9/3

“sitting at the airport, cool breeze with a whiff of rain, the scent of plumeria wafting like a cruel joke… Such a lovely smell… Love-ly yes, damn it all.
Got an hour for the bus, a holiday, memorializing a prince I’m sure, it usually is… What a beautiful place to be lonely, such poetic sadness that flits with the wind in a rustle of palm fronds.
No lei for me, just the passing of cars bearing away grinning and monied vacationers. I’m wearing my carhart jacket against the off-shore bluster and laughing at the eager taxi driver who wishes to bear me away west side for the nominal fee of $90… I did not fall out of a coconut tree yesterday, I tell him to fish in more gullible waters.
I have a book here, some essays written by Gore Vidal, the pragmatic pessimist, and perhaps his brutal views have soured my mood… But i doubt it. What has truly soured me is biting into what I believed to be your sweet orange and discovering that it was a lemon… Sour indeed.
There go the geese, honking at each other in the traffic of the sky and I envy them. They do not wait upon the fickle holiday whims of public transportation.
I’ll just blame my current state of mind on that famous crutch refered to cheekily as “that time of the month”.
I wonder where you are…”

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