saltdawg: (petite martinique)
[personal profile] saltdawg
I've been pretty depressed down here. I seem to have this memory of a Key West that I may have independently constructed all by myself. A Key West without touristas and New York Priced drinks. A Key West where people are not creepy rich or creepy, period. I don't know if there was a tipping point, and I'm just being too myopic to realize that I missed it, or maybe it was a personal tipping point, and now that I'm fucking scared of the the police like an ex-con I simply can't enjoy myself anymore. Except in seclusion.

I thought that Plainview's state, the way he lived, at the end of "There Will Be Blood" looked pretty fucking appealing and not at all the lonely, pathetic existance they were trying to make it out to be. Of course I'd be sleeping with my head on a keyboard instead of a Bowling Alley-gutter, but none-the-less...

The last time I was down here I was really skittish. It was only about a month after I'd been arrested and charged with the felonies. I didn't know what was going to happen. I did know that a condition of my bail was that I wasn't supposed to leave Hillsborough county. I drove down from St. Pete doing 5 miles an hour under the speed limit. That's a long fucking drive. Especially across Deer Key. If you know what I mean.

The last time I was here I went to the raw bar once, and I think I went to the Fed-Ex out by the airport once. That was as far as I went from this dock. I didn't even go to the Green Parrot, and that's two blocks from here. The good times I remeber being here make me remember being here and getting swallowed up, rolled up. Smothered so that I'd have to escape and go play with the cats down at the Hemingway house through the gate in the wee hours. But that was september of '01, and there wasn't ANYONE in this town except for the Conchs. I got swallowed up because I had the town to myself. There was Magic in the trees.

Now, despite all the touristas and speed-boat racers clogging every bar and street corner, this place is fucking empty. It's lonely, even when you are with someone you know. It's one big boutique for chrissakes. Nothing but an expensive boutique.

The time I was here before last, I fell in love. Real love. It lasted all of three hours, but it was probably the purest relationship I ever had...

I'd tell you about it, but I have to go to work. I work every single day out here. Don't forget that. I have no time to be sad. I have no time to be depressed. I don't even have time to cry. I wish I could at least have that. I wish I could at least tell you about the love of my life that I met and lost on Duvall.

Date: 2009-11-15 01:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mallorys-camera.livejournal.com
You write beautifully.

Date: 2009-11-15 01:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] thatdamnninja.livejournal.com

There's lonely that I love and lonely that I loathe and I couldn't really tell you why one is different from another.

I'm glad you're working and keeping busy and I hope you find a happier place after this one.

Date: 2009-11-15 01:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mercyorbemoaned.livejournal.com
t's one big boutique for chrissakes. Nothing but an expensive boutique.

yeah

Date: 2009-11-16 02:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] discogravy.livejournal.com
set and setting, yeah.

Date: 2009-11-16 02:04 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] saltdawg.livejournal.com
Dig it.

Date: 2009-11-20 10:05 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] danjite.livejournal.com
Sometimes I wish I could strand your ass on a tropical island, dead alone, with just an old Smith Corona for company.

No paper, just the fecking typewriter.

Date: 2009-11-22 02:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] qp4.livejournal.com
I told you to go find that guy at the Smallest Bar, and shout with him. Or head over to Captain Tony's and drink Jagermeister with the guy playing the guitar until the truth comes out.
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