I had a dream I was back in my Grammy’s condo near the railroad tracks and the cornfield. I was up on a stool, searching for garlic powder in her cabinet when I noticed a stack of antique Pyrex dishes and Tupperware containers. The Lawry’s garlic powder was old and caked and every time I tried to move it to pour onto some recipe of hers I was recreating, the yellowed powder would stilt into a mold over the siphon. At one point, I found myself transfixed by the Pyrex dishes, as though I’d come across some treasure in a pharaoh’s tomb. It was only after I woke up that I reminded myself that her condo had been sold for over a decade and that the things I dreamt were in a landfill or else in an antique market somewhere.
It got cold overnight here in Florida. When a cold front comes in, I always get rattled by a migraine that comes with the change in barometric pressure. At first I feel sleepy, heavy, and full of melancholy, and then a migraine descends.
The AA meetings I haven’t gone to have caught up with me, so I’ve decided to set some time aside and go to the Midday Miracles Meeting and rip it off like a Band-Aid on a wound that’s begun to itch. Afterwards, I’ll buy some tobacco as a reward and perhaps a coffee from the donut shop at the crux of Gulfstream where Boynton Beach meets Delray.
I’m rereading Play it as it Lays, the last time I read it I was in a bad place and hungover most of the time, so now I’ve decided to reread it with a clearer mindset. Next on the docket is The Comedians by Graham Greene, which I’ve been wanting to read for some time now.
Our house manager spent the morning meeting asking us to live our lives with intention. How can I live with intention in a world on life support and teetering on, or in the mouth of, fascism?
Nightingale 
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