The restuarant is like Hotel California. It was supposed to close Saturday, I went by Sunday to see how it looked closed at night, and to my surprise, the doors were open. I walked up to the sidewalk and ran into the owner of the neighboring building. He said he didn't know what was going on. I walked up to the door, and the hostess, and the coke-head waiter were there, setting up tables.
They said they had no cook, no bus boy, no bartender, but when they showed up for work the doors were open. They didn't know who opened them. We exchanged what we knew, and basically, no one knew anything, but they were trying to open despite the fact that the coolers and the kitchen were locked.
It was like watching ghosts.
The first table sat, ordered an orange juice and a corona. OJ, no problem. Corona, couldn't get. Table left. They called the bartender with the keys, and she would arrive in 20 minutes. They called the wife-owner. She said the restuarant was closed until Wednesday, but husband would call them Tuesday to pay them the money they were owed when he returned from France...
On Sunday, at the end of the walk to benefit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, they released buterflies. They read a Native American legend where if you have a wish you must capture a butterfly. You then tell the butterfly your wish and set it free. Because butterflies make no sound, they can reveal your secret to no one but the Great Spirit.
Today I found one of those butterflies they released, dead in an ashtray at the hostel. I am here charging my battery because the library is closed on Sunday, and I spent all day today job hunting. No offers, but god will put me where I am supposed to be. I know it was one of the butterflies they released because I recognize the species, even though I can't name it right now. They are not in season here and now. But if you google map university of miami and 250 ocean drive, you will see that the butterfly somehow made it several miles across open water and against prevailing winds in approximately one day.
A couple thoughts... I wondered if he told the Great Spirit anyone's wish... this is where wishes come to die... how did he get here?... why did I find him?... Did he really fly here?
Spent a couple hours with the ghosts of casanova. They were there because the owners owed them money. Actually made a connection with the coke-head. Turns out he has a passion for helping the Hatians who are still devastated from the hurricaine that hit, how many years ago? Anyway,he is squatting in an apartment in forclosure and is leaving in a couple weeks. He said I could have the key for $200. Hot water and electricity free of charge for a little while...
Yes, that is a Kilwin's store on Lincoln Road on South Beach. Kilwin's is a confectionary that I have visited in a small town in Northern Michigan where my grandmother lives. A wholesome town... seeing the store here was a little like how I imagine I would feel running into my grandmother on the beach in a bikini.
Shocking.
It is still hot during the day, mid-80's. Nights are cool on the beach because of the wind. My parking space is sheltered, and I cover the bed of my truck with a stylish blue tarp. Tarp keeps it warm, so I still sweat if I cover myself. If I dont , I have the ever present mosquito. Six of one, half a dozen of the other. I am really optomistic at this point. I am released from my servitude to the French, and I didn't have to guillotine them. I am about to find a job that pays me, in a restuarant that is run well, and season is about to hit. I am ready. And who knows, maybe I'm supposed to do something else, like dance and play a tamborine in the street while I sing hare krishna.. krishna krishna... hare hare...
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