absolutely. – enhanced for blind joe

it’s my last night in miami

.i shit you not, it said "oy gvalt".

we’re all too good at our jobs, and i volunteered to go home early

got shit to take care of, nahimean?  plus:

.i hate the "art" here.

don’t get me wrong, it’s incredibly beautiful here.  hot as hell, but that’s why old people move here.  to be warm.  it’s like the air is hugging me, because my grandkids never visit.  i was a good jewish grandson, and visited my grandmother in boca; of course, while i was down here.  more on that in a minute.  first, irony:

.too easy.

matlack and i went out for indian food the other night.  we sat down and ordered, i got chana masala, which i love to death.  i said “oh man this looks great”  and this INSANE MAN with red framed glasses to match his red pocket square (or vice versa?) came over and tackled my peripheral vision with his crazy head and said “IT IS GOOD, IT’S THE BEST THERE IS, YOU MUST EAT IT WITH FOOTBALL BREAD, AND ALSO, IT’S FREE!”  then he walked away, as he was heading back toward the kitchen he made a point to turn around and say “IT’S FREE FOR ME, BUT NOT FOR YOU”

turns out, the maître d’ was the uncle of a kid i went to high school in new jersey with, named raul.  he was our server.  in fucking miami.  i recognized him, and when matlack and i were exiting the restaurant he asked if i was from jersey, i said “I FUCKING KNOW YOU” and i was right.

.small world full of crazy people and odd words that seem to mean other words that mean "thing that holds boobs" but really doesn't.

.i never learned how to frame a shot.

.palm trees play volleyball with the moon.

.the lakers are allowed to win IFF i'm allowed to drink.

last night after work and dinner i sat down at the bar with some colorful older gentlemen and got drunk and yelled at lebron james about being a pedophile (which matlack informed me can be properly spelled 3 different ways, what on earth possesses someone to possess this fact is beyond me, but hey, now i know it, and now you do too) and i got ready to go see grandma today.

nana and i went to a place called the sweet tomato for lunch.  it’s a fucking enormous salad bar.  “your mother said you’re a vegetarian now?  we go to salad bar”  we gorged.

.look at all this beautiful food h/t joe/edan.

then she showed me around her old people development.  we went to their crazy huge rec center (15 fucking card rooms, a 1200 seat movie theater, indoor pool, and a gym that rivals anything in boulder, i shit you not) and i found this:

¿how do you spell microfische?

which nana, being 85 years young, thought was a computer.  it looks like it belongs in a dharma hatch on THE ISLAND.  i had never heard exactly what happened to her during the war; she lived in Lodz, Poland, where the ghetto was.  they fenced her family in.  these people are her parents:

her father died of cancer 6 weeks before the germans came.  she said it was for the best.  i suppose i agree.  i’d go into the whole thing, but i haven’t yet taken it all off the voice recorder yet, and it’s a little heartbreaking.  i try to keep the tenor of this thing pretty upbeat generally; and i think i’ll lose the little audience i have and gain a whole other i don’t want if i start pontificating about the holocaust.

.generationsandgenerationsandgenerations.

on that note; out