Maybe it’s cuz I’m wearing these ridiculous cabana shirts around the house and to the corner bodegas. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been soaked in rum for weeks. Maybe there is no explanation for waking up with Jimmy Buffet ringing in my ears. I don’t own any of his albums or download anything. But I am a white man with a gut and a crooked smile with a growing collection of multi-colored rayon shirts that say “fuck you….I’m on vacation”. My foul mood has, for the most part, lifted off my psyche. I’m still a bit pissy, but not quite pissy enough to taunt children or ruin their dreams by explaining the way I see the world.
This song depresses me. I feel like I could turn into the main character and drink my way into a beach community somewhere in Mexico at any minute. Hell, I could live on sponge cake and play my guitar all day……..but I don’t drink Margaritas. I’ll be the cranky cock nursing a bottle of aged rhum, chain smoking, and urinating anywhere that suits me. Somehow that attitude fits in here in NYC more than Mexico.
That jackass cook on the local news channel is on again. Let’s call the station “New York’s #1” news channel. He looks like a guy who would start a fake beach resort in middle America and think it was gonna be a goldmine. He’s soft spoken, pockmarked, and slimly looking. A reptile given valuable T.V. time. How could ANYONE get hungry looking at this guy? Jesus…..he looks like a tanned, hair covered omelette. The type of guy you’d expect dealing blackjack on a riverboat…..not cooking on television for New Yorkers with little time to prepare food.
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