The Day Nothing Happened

What happens when you look back on the day and realise that the most exciting thing that happened was that you forgot to pay for your coffee this morning? Either that, or watching people’s faces in Freeze Peach when you go back and insist they take a candied vanilla olive as a peace offering.

Well, you could try to think of a way to use candied vanilla olives as garnish in a new sort of martini. Or you could try soaking the olives in various spirits in pursuit of same. So far, the experiment has not been a great success, although my perception may be coloured in part by my continued inability to enjoy a martini, no matter what you start with.

Not to change the subject or anything, but we watched part of a network news broadcast tonight, something we don’t often do. Following stories of the devastation of Katrina and the spectre of Rita came a story of NASA’s latest $100 billion gamble to put man on the moon once again. The juxtaposition was stinging, a slap in the face. Whitey’s on the moon again, while the madman dons his ghostly clothes of jazz and his saxophone cry for help shivers the cities down to the last radio. Maybe the revolution will be televised, after all. But don’t hold your breath.