Surreal
Went to Philly this weekend to attend the Dali exhibition.
The entire weekend was relaxing and overwhelming at the same time — a nice break from the dark avenues of New York City but so full of alcohol and cheese steaks and artistic representations of the unconscious that my head’s still spinning a bit, though my humor’s shamelessly hungover, dehydrated beyond its usual dryness………….
I did learn something, though. When our group leader Lisa walked up to a cashier at the rest stop, and waited to pay for 32 pieces (2 and a half box-buckets) of fried chicken–
–to be split among the five of us–
–THAT is the definition of surreal.
I hear Dali preferred drumsticks.
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