I walked into the office today and found two chickens at my desk. This is how I know it's Friday. No one ever brings me chickens on Mondays. It's like some kind of law or something, I guess. I've had better weeks, so when the brown copper colored one (named Penny) pooped on my finger, I chose to take it as a sign that things are looking up.
And they are — after all, we’ve made it through another week without anyone blowing up the whole of the United States, something I used to take for granted but now, well, things have changed. The only things I take for granted now is that I still can’t carry a tune, my dog will always love me and St. Pete’s a city of words. If you live in St. Pete (or anywhere near), you may have noticed we are smack dab in the middle of the SunLit Festival. This year, Keep St. Pete Lit’s taken it over and they’ve essentially planned a 15-day party with books and poetry and… literary death matches. Apparently shit gets real at Lucha Libro, where writers don masks and duel to the death. Sort of. I mean, no one dies. Usually. They do laugh, though. SunLit also includes a whole buncha Kerouac (try and stay more sober than he did in the ‘Burg, K?) and a literary walking tour (starring a bunch of us CL folks) of Mirror Lake — and this is only this weekend.
Of course, life goes on outside the 'Burg, and there's a ton of stuff you can't miss/should do/want to do. Gulfport has its Spring and Faerie Fest, Bo-Nita at Urbanite, the Blueberry Festival at Keel & Curley and a bevy of Saturday markets.
Sunday, of course, is Easter, so you need lamb. And brunch. Technically, I need brunch on non-Easter Sundays too, but since it's Sunday and Easter, I'll leave you with a two-fer: Horse & Jockey in South Pasadena, and Boca Bay Grille.
Just… wherever you go, don't order the chicken, OK?
This article appears in Apr 6-13, 2017.