Sunday, 17 April 2016 —
Sunday. Why even have a Sunday? I woke up this morning about 8:05 and turned the coffee pot on. I relaxed on the couch while the coffee was brewing and fell asleep til noon. What is that about?
Last night Chris and I went to dinner with Joe and Demetria. They recently purchased their first home and D had her 22nd birthday. I wanted to celebrate both, so I invited them to dinner. Joe and I ate steaks and D and Chris had fried chicken fingers. They were dreaming of drinking Moscato and Joe and I were salivating for shots of whisky. With the craving fresh on our tongues, I cashed us out and we went to Andy Mac’s and exchanged a long, beautiful friendly conversation. No one got boozy, but I did get sentimental with Joe and made him tear up! I love that guy so much. He’s been such a great dad to Olivia and he has made me so happy from afar. I am incredibly impressed with Demetria and Joe. They are a hard-working, young couple making their lives happen. I only want for the Creator to bless them with more opportunities, good health and everlasting love. (I know I sound cheesy, but I mean it).
I recently picked up a slew of magazines I once used to read as a teenager. The one that really molded my love of fashion, editorial photography and the arts is Andy Warhol’s Interview. I have been loving the current issue and make a few moments to read one review or interview a night. I remember when I used to read that magazine on Saturday afternoons at my parents’ house and play music and just digest it slowly page my page. Part of me wants to return to those simple, impressionable days of art school Josh. I was so opinionated and so avant garde. Part of reading high-brow magazines like that inspired me to become a bit of a bon vivant and my writing only got better because of reading the profiles written by Ingrid Sichy and guest collaborators. I remember the days of wanting to contribute for a magazine like that and eventually become the Creative Director. Who says it can’t happen still, right?
Last night, I realized that my fat ass has to get back to the gym. I go through spurts where I am really good about getting to the gym and staying vegetarian and then there are days when I just can’t continue because I’m stressed or overworked and lack sleep. I have to stop making excuses. I feel better, I look better when I work out. I was really appalled at our couple picture last night at dinner. Chris looks amazing as usual, but I’m feeling old and puffy. It’s not excusable. Passover is Friday night and for all of Pesach I am bound to a levin-less bread week. Maybe the swelling will go down. The days of not working out have caught up. Every shirt is starting to look shrinked-wrapped to my body. Yuck! Simon Cowell looked better in his too-tight shirts.
As the evening winds down, I have been putting some thoughts into working on a book. I’ve had emails from people asking me when I am FINALLY going to write one. Also, the comedy gigs have to get going. I am longing for a performance! I see so many less-than comedians getting gigs locally and in surrounding areas and am frankly, annoyed that people think its okay to read stupid, cliche material. Time to work out, polish some material, write some stuff for my book and get my puffy overfed ass up and back to my creative life. Now, to find the hours in the day…