Sunday Morning

They say the best things in life are free, like beautiful Sunday mornings when you make off with the SO’s ride,

and getting pandesal burgers at Mcdo and hitching off to the nearest beach (no matter how ghastly that beach looks) and buying a glass (no cups in this place thank you very much) of coffee

and laying down your laptop in a makeshift table with a monoblock chair, to quick post a blog entry or two.

Having the owner of the little store silently asking you if you could perhaps give her two nieces a lift to the city as if it’s the most precious favor you could giver her in the world only serves to enhance the surrealism of this Sunday morning. I had to decline of course as I’m off for a little chat with my old man who’s probably still sleeping at this time.

Little things like this could very well make for a very good conversation piece when you’re getting shitfaced with the boys. Perhaps a little show of pretentiousness to disguise(?) or make the impression of how spontaneous you can be. Oh how mysterious and artistic and sensitive I am, blah blah blah.

Maybe things are looking up with your life when you can, at a moments notice, throw in a couple of clothes hie off to the province of your birth for the weekend leaving all those deadlines and pollution behind. To at least forget for a day that you are part of the rat race that only ends when you get fired early or retire when you’re all wrinkled and gray.

I always say that getting or experiencing the best thing in anything early on ruins the experience for you. You go to the most wonderful beach when you’re young and the pleasures that come with the more mediocre beaches lose their appeal. I don’t think some of the more affluent kids would have as much fun as these kids are having.

It didn’t matter to them that this beach’s water is colored khaki. They’ve never been to an aquamarine colored sea anyway and as far as they’re concerned, this is it. This is THE Beach. Don’t you just love innocence?