Last night I dreamed of sweat dripping down my back and down my ass crack. I could feel sweat trickling down the back of my knees. It tickled me and I smiled.
I lit matches and put them in my arm pits to extinguish them. My forehead soaked bandana was used to wipe my side view mirrors clean.
I picked up the faint hint of Coppertone. It did battle with the salt thick humidity. I drank them both in.
I knew the sand was hot. It burned my feet as I walked back to the dunes for some firewood I noticed there.
I casually walked into the surf to cool off. A wave almost knocked me down. The 74º water felt like melted ice on my head.
I woke and layed there, wondering why I live here and not on Cayman Brac. Or in Costa Rica. But then I thought...it could be worser. It was 52º this morning. Not that cold, huh? But cold and miserable enough for me to hate it. I hate it.
From what I read a few years ago, Ned Beaty suggested that the infamous scene in "Deliverance" where he was raped by a mountain man. One of the most re-quoted phrases from a movie would be forever immortalized; "Squeal like a pig!"
Squirrels are such cute and fuzzy l'il creatures. Yes, they do steal the bird seed you put out for the finches. But that's nature. Sometimes, if you're lucky and patient, you can train a squirrel to even eat out of your hand. But you better make sure it isn't starving!
I have a friend, have not seen him for a while, though. A hippie he is. I don't think there is any other way to decribe the guy. He was a hippie back then and still is today. He is also a damn good photographer. His photos of the Houston Astros games were amazing. He attended the Art Car Parade in Houston, Texas every year and shot film there. Those photos were always worthy of a frame.
We called him the Mayor, because that's what he told us his name was.