I'm off and running on a book.
I was on furlough. Today's a holiday.
I go in tomorrow for a last day's work. Possibly,
two days. I don't know what's after that. Stay at
the house and write fishing stories until
my money runs out. Be a househusband.
Maybe the unemployment will pay me to take
one of the classes I wrote. Sheet metal worker is done.
Maybe I'll take electronics technician, or machined parts technician.
Maybe I'll write a course for technical writer. Integrated logistics support.
Maybe I'll be a consultant. As your consultant, I advise you
to give me all the dope. No, that's as your attorney.
Fear and loathing in Las Vegas.
Fear and loathing in Point and Shoot, Florida.
I'm not copying Hunter S. Thompson.
I'm copying Søren Kierkegaard.
We all copy someone. I'm copying Thompson
copying Kierkegaard. Boxes within boxes.
Rattle their brackets. Give them a forearm-shiver.
Shiver me timbers, mate. Maybe I'll write Treasure Island.
Beer-Can Island. Boynton Inlet. Where the Atlantic Ocean empties into
Lake Worth (Intracoastal Waterway). The water is brackish. That means
snook, tarpon, and spotted weakfish (sea trout).