Sitting here at the Cigar Factory.
The old man brought me a bouquet of flowers for my performance tonight. He brought them and hid them behind the factory front counter until I came out.
I didn’t practice today, but there’s something about being in the “ambiente.”
It’s me and a bunch men, sitting out back, bbqing, smoking “puros.”
Life is simple and beautiful.
My mom reminded me last week that I shouldn’t be smoking, and she’s right. So I’m not smoking anymore, not like I was when I was learning.
A cop came by to pick up some cigars rolled especially for him. They are HUGE. So huge, the cigar roller couldn’t use a mold for the “tripas.” He used paper napkins to wrap them tightly to hold the shape. What I am curious about is why a cop needs cigars THAT big.
The old man is coming to the show tonight to roll cigars after, and he’s letting me roll a few.
I love this.