Fragments

Snippets. Fragments. Images. Scenarios.

I came down with my college girlfriend. I don't remember much of that trip. My new friends met her, liked her. We had lived our hippie lives together at the university, but I graduated and moved away. We were still together, but distance and time. . . . The water had been tainted. The only thing I can remember about our trip was that she left her shorts on the beach when we went swimming. There were people all about. But when we came out of the water, our things were gone. Her glasses were in her shorts and she was very blind without them. About an hour later, a scruffy street fellow approached me. He said he knew who stole our stuff and said he could get it back for ten dollars. I thought about beating him, but I knew we wouldn't get the glasses back, so I gave him the ten. That was the highlight of that trip.

I brought another girl to Key West. My friends liked her, too. Again, I can't remember much about what we did, just that she liked the whole idea of titties on the beach.

Trips to Key West alone I remember vividly. The nothingness of it, even. Escaping the terrible heat of summer aftenoons at the Key West Picture Show on Duval, watching the matinees, great films. I remember seeing "The Tree of Wooden Shoes" there. It must have been four hours long.

There were a group of people who spent their mornings playing cards at the Reach. There was a fellow named Bill who organized the games, who was always there. He was brown as leather and I don't remember him ever being cheerful. He was always drinking by ten. But there were always pretty girls hanging around him, laughing, lounging. I wondered how such a young guy could live like that. Why didn't he work? I was that naive.

I loved walking the island. I tried to memorize the streets, the houses, even. I wanted to chew the coral and get it in me.

There was a lovely bookstore by Faustos grocery. Why can't I remember its name? They had everything. I read Harrison, McGuane, Sanchez, Gifford, while the others played cards. Tremendous.

My friends' shop was across from Fastbuck Freddie's. They were friends with the owners, Tony and Bill. We all went to their house one night for drinks. I had never seen such a place. It was a movie set. As I remember it, there was no back wall. The entire house opened up onto the pool. I think there were glass doors on rollers or something. It was outdoor living inside. Maybe I hallucinated it all, but I can still see it, the dark wood, the tropical garden, lush and exotic. They asked me to come to Fantasy Fest and ride on their float. The year before they'd made a hurricane theme, mounting a giant fan on the front and blowing water the entire length of the parade. I'd never known people so wonderfully and outrageously sophisticated.

There was nothing like listening to The Pacific Orchestra, a strange, wild conglomeration of sounds (Christ, I just googled them and they still exist).

Closed parties upstairs at The Whistle where anything could happen. Expensive dinners at a restaurant I will never remember upstairs across from The Monster whose owners spent half the year there and half in Manhattan. The damned thing burned down.

Eating at midnight in a tropical garden at exquisite tables food I hadn't names for.

My parents had never done this.