5:30am.
My alarm goes off. I have slept for under 45 minutes. I cut off the alarm and wait for the one that will go off at 6am, never really going back to sleep because I know that alarm is coming. If I sleep, I’ll sleep right through it.

6am.
I step outside. Cleopatra and Poison Ivy are laughing, the party continuing at Club Meridian. I look to my right. Three young men (one of which I know) sits on the patio outside the unit next to mine. I nod.

I need coffee.

I text the girl, already knowing the answer.

“Are you on your way?”

I smile with my neighbors as they laugh at all of the funny things that make 6am Saturday morning funny. My eyes can’t really open fully. I feel their redness. I decide I will sleep.

10am.
I text the girl and then email her. We’ll reschedule. She responds six hours later. It’s okay. This is exactly how it should be. If she weren’t so perfectly beautiful, it would be enough to make a man cry. Instead, all one can do is laugh. And I do. And my roommate does. And my neighbor does. Truly, this girl is magical. I debate driving my scooter to shoot her, 100 pounds of camera equipment, strapped around me and in bags and backpacks.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

12:19pm.
I get an email from the Bad Hatter. It reads:

“God works in mysterious ways.”

He attaches a picture of a young woman, half-naked. God’s costume is surprisingly similar to the Devil’s. Perhaps they coordinated.

But God’s ass can’t touch The Devil’s. (How YOU doin’??)

Mid-afternoon.
Did I go to the beach? No, that was yesterday. I worked on films. I pulled video to my computer. I looked once more at content management systems. I put most of the finishing touches on HeadlessBuddha overnight. In a couple of weeks, I’ll be open to the general public.

And another day in South Beach turns into night.