The Rusty Nail, or...

A reason for Drambuie.

2 oz Scotch Whisky
1/2 oz Drambuie

Serve over ice in a rocks glass.

Yes please, times four.

Why am I still awake? And why am I burping up pepper? It's the worst taste in the stratosphere, ever in all of time and space. I'm tired but cannot sleep. This is my life. I will sleep until almost noon tomorrow, while I get up at seven and shower and go to Kinkos and then school. I will do all of this asleep. It will be dangerous because I am cursed. I can see the Matrix now, and guess what... everything is architectural!

I made this:



Then I turned it into this:



One day I will finish school, and get a job at Tommy Burger.
Goodnight.

Back to reality

I went sport fishing in Mexico this weekend with my dad and brother. It was a quick, but much needed get-away from school and the city. We left San Diego at ten Saturday night, drank coffee and played cards in the galley, and then bundled into the sleeping quarters for the night as the boat tossed about. I was up at five. The cook had bacon on for breakfast burritos, and then our lines went in at first light. My number one sardine of the trip took a bite that sent my rod smoking, and ten minutes later I was standing in a pool of blood next to my beautiful Yellowtail. We fished the day silly. Beers. Hamburgers. My brother and I simultaneously hooked some Skipjack while trolling. Later we rolled them up, ate some sashimi that was alive a half hour before, took naps, and headed home.

It was refreshing to get out for a bit, with nothing but the sea in every direction, and remember how small my problems actually are. It's difficult to protect this state of mind as I return to reality. If I need a reminder, I just have to stick my head in my freezer and take in a nice whiff of my catch.

Seared tuna with wasabi butter sauce. Who's coming?