As usual for me, August brings nothing but endless yard work and long, hot humid days with me dreaming of cooler weather. That was the case last weekend since my daughter and I decided to do the mowing and trimming on Saturday. By the time we were finished the only thing I wanted to do was get cleaned up and vegetate on the couch for the rest of the day.
I've done this blogging long enough to fully understand that a weary and overheated Beach Bum does not create audacious fiction nor insightful essays. However, I still wanted to post something so here is some new Jimmy Buffett.
Have a good week and send me ideas on how I can get my wife to let me go to the coast next Saturday. Understand this, any ideas offered I will consider. I will not held back by moral or ethical concerns. I need a sandy beach, ocean waves, and a salty breeze.
Like an idiot, after a long and much needed hiatus I attempted to write some fiction this weekend. After pounding out over a page and a half of lackluster prose I realized it was so bad that I physically began to smell something akin to a long neglected cat's litter box coming from my laptop. So between trying to salvage that disaster and watching Hurricane Irma coverage on CNN I wasted the entire weekend. So instead I will offer up a small Jimmy Buffett video interlude.
While I'm still a fan of Buffett, I've got to admit I ain't feeling the same thrill anymore. Especially since he appears to have mostly transitioned from tropical vagabond singer/song writer/author over to some sort of high rolling resort/real estate developer going as far as offering up retirement homes to aging Baby Boomers. I guess my disappointment in Jimmy's embrace of gross capitalistic endeavors that probably threaten coastal environments that inspired his songs is a minor form of whining. But still, that makes Jimmy more part of the establishment now than the free soul whose songs once told everyone life should be taken at face value because none of us were going to get out of it alive.
Be that as it may, this seems fitting given what people in the Caribbean, Florida, and Texas have endured.
Now how about a little mid-life reflection:
Word of warning, when listening to this song with the volume up DO NOT have your car windows down while as you drive through pickup loop in front of your daughter's school. The attractive 40-something teacher directing traffic in her sundress that spring day didn't appreciate the apparent but totally unintentional innuendo.
And finally, something to remind everyone life is short and often tragic, so we need to be nice as possible to each other and not get caught up in the bull shit.
