Clearwater beach, Florida

I am sitting in bed in Clearwater beach, Florida. My face is hot, glowing red, and red as a beet. I had forgotten what the heat of the sun can do to me. I had forgotten the feel of the sand on my body, of waves, of salty water, of being toasted, of being self conscious of being without my shirt on and looking like an advertisement from the before photos of Hair club of men. I feel like my Father did perhaps when I was a child. The body of an middle aged guy. I cannot be middle aged. I am still a youth, am I not? In my mind perhaps. The gulf of Mexico is warm, there is crude oil in it and the thought that it's on my body as I swim haunts me. If I see a dark bird I am convinced it's oil covered. Jess is next to me, she has a cold. Man it sucks to have a cold in the summer. On the tv there is Chris Matthews and some Politician speaking of how the nation is broke. We must raise the Debt ceiling or we will be unable to send SS checks to our elderly. They will have to eat cat food, but will they eat fancy feast or friskies? We feed Maxie cat avoderm. It has chunks of fish and avocado. This cat eats better than most people on the planet do. The cans cost over a dollar each, the price one can save a child. We would rather feed our cats than our elderly. We would rather tax the middle class than tax the rich. We would rather have two wars for a decade than pay for education, healthcare, or for the elderly. That is our American priorities. I am in Florida. Florida feels unreal, or perhaps it's clearwater, beach. It has a similar feeling of all beach areas do. There was never any culture here, no civilization, no industry, no native population and nothing but sand dunes, turtles, fish, and plants. The sand is white. It's beautiful here except for the gaudy motels, the large corporate hotels and fat, sunburned beach goers. I am one of those fat, sunburned beach goers. I am bored here, but so relaxed I do not care. There is nothing to do here, but to lay in the sun, drink beer and eat fried foods. It's an American paradise. The highlight of my Day was buying a bottle of Dubbonet and a Romeo and Julieta cigar. I could not decide what alchohol I wanted. I really wanted Campari. I was reading Henry Miller and it put me in the mood. He was not even drinking Campari, but still I thought of it. I wanted Campari. I would have drank anything from a vintage poster that one sees reproductions of or imagines in a old French cafe. Pernod was another option. I almost bought a corn pipe and pipe tobacco, but new I would end up smoking for the next few days. This is the dilemma I faced. I read Henry Miller and I want to write. I want to write like Henry Miller and when I write I write like teenager writing in his journal. It's an unpleasant disconnect. I have anecdotes I cannot recall, I see all kinds of people, have all sorts of interesting interactions that I forget soon after. I must start writing them down because like dreams they vanish into nothingness soon after. Today I went to the beach alone. I was in the Gulf of Mexico, the water was perfect, the waves were gentle, there was a gratifying breeze and I was admiring the young, bikini clad flesh around me. The beach is full of lovely young women and youth is an amazing aphrodisiac. Here I am drifting in the water, feeling the sun on my face and I see something from a horror film. There was a man with no arms in the water bobbing about. Where he once had arms he now had nothing but tattoos. He had a tattoo on each shoulder stump and a violent, jagged scar on his chest. The first thing that occurred to me was that he was a maimed war veteran, a byproduct of one of our wars. He was a young man. He had a hard time keeping his balance with no arms as the waves hit him, but he managed. After my initial feelings of horror, I felt sadness, not pity, but a feeling of sadness of the ongoing wars that exist. These are Bush's children and Obama's adopted kids. These horrid, futile wars that only serve to enrich the likes of Halliburton, GE, Exxon-Mobil and are senseless otherwise. They have maimed countless soldiers and civilians. After the feelings of sadness washed over me along with the waves, I felt a feeling of gratefulness. Just moments before I felt ashamed of my giant belly, and afterwards I felt fortunate and grateful for everything I had including my bald spot and my big belly. I felt grateful for my deaf ear, for my seeing eyes, my working hands, my arms, my legs, my toes, my heart, my lungs, my nose, my mouth, my anus, and everything else I had including my love, my friends, my apartment, my health, for being in this water, on this post card perfect beach and I even felt grateful for the man with no arms and lucky for him that he had his life and could also be in the water. we all have our lives we must live and fate to contend with. My fate to be in this water with this man. This man helped me appreciate all I had and all he has. What horrors one can survive, pain we can endure and lost we must face. Soon after I dried myself off, I read my Henry Miller, and let the sun wash away my worries.

I admonished myself for any judging I was doing. I must find love for all the people. I cannot look at people one way or another including myself. To see people as one way or another is pure ego.