It is Friday. The snow is coming down. It is snow, not volcanic ash from the Yellowstone Super-Volcano. The Apocalypse will have to wait.
So, I'm sitting here, keeping my toes toasty, slurping down big cupfuls of java. Dreaming of Jamaica. White beaches. Blue water. Barracuda and dolphins flashing in the surf. I see myself parked on a beach chair, plopped down in the center of a topless beach. Surrounded by lovelies of every creed and color. I'm reading Paul Bowles great novel "The Sheltering Sky."
Later I will meet up with some dudes from San Francisco and we will commandeer a taxi and head to the hills to find Mrs. Brown and her famous psilocybin tea. I will meet Mrs. Brown. I will have cupfuls of her home brew. I will see the Crystalized Universe. I will lose all sense of time and place. I will somehow survive the ordeal.
Anyway since I'm not really there, I need to bring a little Jamaica to my Midwestern icebox. I declare today Reggae Friday! Here's Bob and the Wailers Stirring It Up!