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Tuesday, August 31st, 2010

    Time Event
    12:26a
    I suspected a coffee pot, a breakfast tray, or...
    I suspected a
    coffee pot, a breakfast tray, or bothI further
    105
    suspected they came from the huge hacienda with
    the acre or so of orange tiled roofThat was the
    last house visible on Duma Key before the road ran
    into the enthusiastic overgrowth that covered most
    of the island
    iv
    I couldn't quite get used to the emptiness of the
    place"It's supposed to be very quiet," Sandy
    Smith had told me, but I had still pictured the
    beach filling up by midday: couples sunning on
    blankets and slathering each other with tanning
    lotion, college kids playing volleyball with iPods
    strapped to their biceps, little kids in saggy
    swimsuits paddling at the edge of the water while
    Jet-Skis buzzed back and forth forty feet out
    Jack reminded me that it was only December"When
    it comes to Florida tourism," he said, "the month
    between Thanksgiving and Christmas is Morgue City
    Not as bad as August, but vintage omega watches still pretty dead He gestured with his armWe were
    standing out by the mailbox with the red 13 on it,
    me leaning on my crutch, Jack looking sporty in a
    106
    pair of denim cut-offs and a fashionably tattered
    Tampa Devil Rays shirt"It's not exactly tourist
    country hereSee any trained dolphins? What you
    got is seven houses, counting that big 'un down
    thereWhere there's another
    house falling apart, by the wayThat's according
    to some of the stories I've heard on Casey Key
    "What's with Duma, Jack? Nine miles of prime
    Florida real estate, a great beach, and it's never
    been developed? What's up with that?"
    He shrugged"Some kind of long-running legal
    dispute is all I knowWant me to see if I can
    find out?"
    I thought about it, then shook my head
    "Do you mind it?" Jack looked honestly curious
    "All the quiet? Because it'd get on my nerves a
    little, to tell you the God's honest And that cartier pasha watch was the truth
    Healing is a kind of revolt, and as I think I've
    said, all successful revolts begin in secret
    "What do you do? If you don't mind me asking?"
    "Exercise in the morningsSleep in the
    afternoonsI may eventually try
    painting, but I'm not ready for that yet
    107
    "Some of your stuff looks pretty good for an
    amateur
    "Thank you, Jack, that's very kind
    I didn't know if kind was all he was being or if
    he was telling me his version of the truthMaybe
    it didn't matterWhen it comes to things like
    pictures, it's always just someone's opinion,
    isn't it? I only knew that something was going on
    for meSometimes it felt a little
    scaryMostly it felt pretty goddam wonderful
    I did most of my drawing upstairs, in the room I'd
    come to think of as Little PinkThe only view
    from there was of the Gulf and that flat horizonline,
    but I had a digital camera and I took
    pictures of other things chanel j12 sometimes, printed them
    out, clipped them to my easel (which Jack and I
    turned so the strong afternoon light would strike
    across the paper), and drew that stuffThere was
    no rhyme or reason to those snapshots, although
    when I told Kamen this in an e-mail, he responded
    that the unconscious mind writes poetry if it's
    left alone
    108
    I drew my mailboxI drew the stuff growing around
    Big Pink, then had Jack buy me a book - Common
    Plants of the Florida Coast - so I could put names
    to my picturesNaming seemed to help - to add
    power, somehowBy then I was on my second box of
    colored pencilsand I had a third waiting in
    the wingsThere was aloe vera; sea lavender with
    its bursts of tiny yellow flowers (each possessing
    a tiny heart of deepest violet); inkberry with its
    long spade-shaped leaves; and my favorite, sophora,
    which Common Plants of the Florida Coast also
    identified as fendi spy bags necklace-bush, for the tiny podlike
    necklaces that grow on its branchesThere were
    shells everywhere, an eternity of shells just
    within my limited walking distanceDuma Key was
    made of shells, and soon I'd brought back dozens
    And almost every night when the sun went down, I
    drew the sunsetI knew sunsets were a cliché, and
    that's why I did themIt seemed to me that if I
    could break through that wall of been-there-donethat
    even once, I might be getting somewhereSo I
    piled up picture after picture, and none of them
    looked like muchI tried overlaying Venus Yellow
    109
    with Venus Orange again, but subsequent efforts
    didn't workThe sullen furnace-glow was always
    missingEach sunset was only a penciled piece of
    shit where the colors said I'm trying to tell you
    the horizon's on fireYou could undoubtedly have
    bought forty better ones at any sidewalk art show
    on a Saturday in Sarasota or Venice coco chanel jewelry Bea

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