So I guess the real, salt-water,
snook, tarpon, and spotted weakfish fishing--
my
beer-can island period--was only three years
of high school and the year I spent
at home between hitches
in the Air Force. I guess FISHING STORIES, OR, BEER-CAN
ISLAND
is an [illegible] of a time, like A Moveable Feast, written afterwards,
like
Proust, instead of on the hop, like Kerouac. Vanity of vanities,
The Sun Also
Rises.