07/11/00 (cont'd)
in the house while we were gone, trying on my underwear. Which I know is a jest, because I'm not a light packer, and I took every single pair of underwear I own to Florida with me...just in case. Am I showing my age here?
I have to admit, I'm kind of glad to be back home. I mean, the palm trees were lovely, but they were so...sparse, and there wasn't a hell of a lot else to compliment them. I like tropical flavor. Lush greenery and flowers I've never seen before.
Still, there's much to be said for walking along the shore at night, watching the sun set and the moon rise, the white sand finally cool to your feet, the waves picking up and singing you a song that you will never forget, not in a million years...
We met a guy one night, the only guy who didn't try to get into our pants. He was a fly boy (Air Force), and on the beach flying a kite. Not your average K-Mart kite, mind you, one of the $300 kites that I avoid at all costs because of what I have been known to do to a kite. He smiled at us, said hello, and asked if either of us wanted to try it? I sent Megan, knowing she was dying to get her hands on the strings. He was smart enough not to let go, and when Megan had her fill, he asked me if I wanted a try. I went for it. That kite had enough force to yank me right off the sand and over the water...I kept envisioning Gonzo in the Muppet Movie ("Camellllllaaaaa!") and was very glad he wasn't letting go. He let me do a few loops and spins, and it was totally cool. When we were done, he said he hoped he'd see us around before we left for home...and then he was gone. So Mike, if you stumble upon this...I hope you get stationed closer to home like you wanted, and I had a wonderful time talking to you, and you were by far the nicest person I encountered at the gulf coast.
And Megan and I managed not to kill each other. There were a few times I wanted to slap her, and I'm damn glad she has class tonight, and even more glad that she's going canoeing with her family this weekend, but all in all, we managed to get along splendidly.
I feel so good about life right now it's bringing tears to my eyes. Megan and I are still friends. And I'm free. Finally free to be myself. For the first time in nearly 30 years, I don't give a flying fuck what anyone, anywhere, thinks about me or how vocal they are about it. I'm living for myself now and no one can stop me.
Okay, okay, put your Helen Reddy LP's away.
I'm really digging unemployment. But I don't feel like I'm getting shit done. I still have to get my car inspected so I can send in for my renewal plates. I think I'll do that tomorrow, and have breakfast while I'm waiting for the grease monkeys to make sure my muffler is intact, my brakes work and my windshield isn't cracked so I can give them $12 for another year. God, the state of Missouri sucks.
Another observation--Illinois smells. Really bad. Granted, I only drove through the western part of Illinois, but it stinks like hog shit. If you live in western Illinois, please accept my condolences. I don't know how you stand it. Tennessee smelled really good, and Kentucky even better. But Illinois...damn.
And I've seen more Waffle Houses in the last week than in my entire life. We stopped at one in Greenville, Alabama around 6 last Sunday morning. Excellent. Then at one somewhere in VERY south Alabama the next Sunday morning. Excellent again. But I still won't touch your grits with a 10-foot pole. Blech. But seriously, drive south--every exit has at least one Waffle House. It's remarkable.
So I guess I'll put this away for now, until I either (a) get my hunk o shit fixed, or (b) come back to the lab. I do plan to start a new, different journal, as I noted in my 6/30 entry, but that will wait until I have access to the web at home. And I will keep this one. It may not be my magnum opus, but it serves a purpose of its own. (Pissing people off, mostly, but that's neither here nor there...)
I sunburned the top of my head and it's starting to itch. Time for a shower.
And because I can't seem to shut up today...I dug out two great tapes this weekend while cleaning out my room. INXS "Kick" and Lush, their first one and their most recent one. INXS was the first "big" concert I saw--1988. Christ, many of you were in diapers at that point. I went with Rod, who was dating Shelly, my best friend with whom I was enamored, because she snubbed his free ticket to go with her icky skank friends. Go figure--they were sitting directly 3 rows behind us. Can we say "uncomfortable?" Two weeks later he and I were dating and she and I weren't speaking. They're now married, live 30 minutes away, and I haven't spoken to either of them in over a year. Life is strange, isn't it?
Have a lovely day.
But wait, there's more...