December 28 2002 Somewhere on Florida's Western Coast

Retirees, bleached out natives, bovine tourists and hookers. A wise man said, You are the company you keep. Wise man, it's not my fault!! I didn't know these people would be here, they keep following me.

There is a hard drinking drug culture that battles with the cheesy tourist trade for dominance, and for my money it's no contest. We skipped the Pelican Man and tried to go into a liquor store to get some New Year champagne, but found out that the store was actually a "Liquor Club" — it's just like a strip club, except without any signs outside or lights or anything. I guess they advertise elsewhere. Next to it was a motor-in motel, which had a sign: "The Best Little Motel in Florida." They had pretty cheap rates. I think they shared a back door. They all favored a bleached stucco, bars-over-the-windows decor, very Mexican-Prison-Esque. Q'uelle Romance! Next time, the Pelican Man.

Four days ago we bought and roasted a large free range turkey, and have been steadily carving it and living off it ever since. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, all simplified. Today it looks like the bird will not make it through dinner, alas. We honor it for sustaining a small family of seven for so many days. Tonight there will be a slaughter of crabs and potatoes, supplemented by any greens we are able to salvage from a farmer's market down the way. The weather is warming up and most of the northern city-folk have decompressed to the point where we may all have music tonight.