Serendipital Kismet.

With McRib off the market for the foreseeable future, I eat very little fast food. That said, the new Popeye’s at the corner of Earhart Boulevard and South Carrollton Avenue is spiffy. It has just been remodeled.

The color scheme at the Popeye’s is white, orange and teal. I do not understand the appeal of pairing orange with teal. Gulf Coast Bank, my bank, also is enamored with the orange and teal branding.

The president of Gulf Coast Bank loves orange and teal. I know because somebody told me. He also has terrible taste in architects. Every Gulf Coast Bank branch is an insult to the eyes, and I am not talking about their color schemes. Every Gulf Coast Bank branch is built to be ugly. The president likes this kind of architecture. I don’t even think it has a name.

When Popeye’s pairs orange and teal in their building design, it is tasteful, just like Popeye’s chicken. Mmmmm.

Every day is layered with the sediment of ennui. Your man in the field has been cooling his heels, waiting. He has been waiting for something to happen. Every day is a variation on a theme.

I saw Kenny, the mailman today. He is the mailman I spoke to in June. He showed me all the features of his USPS-issue pith helmet. Today he showed me how he ties his shoes. A mailman spends a lot of time walking, so, secure shoelaces are essential for the swift completion of his appointed rounds.

I just had a conversation with a young man with a flexible schedule. He told me he sees me every time he comes here. I have not been here since before Carnival. Neither has he.

The man with the flexible schedule noted that I tend to move at a glacial pace, myself. As a flaneur, I also have a flexible schedule, even more so than this guy.

This guy said, “You read the newspaper, you talk to people who walk by, you go back to reading the newspaper, you pull out your laptop, you type a bit, you stare off into space, you talk to the next person who walks by…I aspire to your pace, Mr. King.”

Be careful what you wish for.

Every day unfolds like a camellia and smells like oleander.

Then, you will never guess what happened next. I have to put up the paywall before I tell you about it. Surprisingly, it does not involve ketchup.