Random Journal Entry From 1994

I recently posted a short story as a blog entry, but it is now gone. As much as I love reading and writing short stories, they just don’t mix with this format. Fiction & Non-Fiction can sometimes exist side-by-side, but not in a blog, which by its nature is personal journalism. Splicing in short stories is not only confusing, its ill matched to this style. Without indentations, your eyes are moving down the page as if you were reading a newspaper, not a book.

So here is a journal entry from when I used to live in Key West. Just like they set up clips up on Letterman & Leno, here we go: I had just taken my GRE’s and was trying to get admitted to Emerson College for a Master’s Program. My carefree beach bum days were coming to an end.


MAY 8, 1994
4:41 p.m. Sunday

This weekend I sold my first article, tried to buy beer at Wynn Dixie at 7:45 am, drank all day Saturday, and wound up crashing my scooter early this morning. A lot a good, some bad I can laugh at, and that’s all you can ask for in this crazy world.

The article appeared in today’s Key West Citizen, and although it wasn’t terribly interesting (how much fun can you have with a local “Propeller Club”?), it’s my first professional gig in the freelance journalism game. Not much, but a start if you will.

With the drinking, Dave (who went to Bridgewater with Jamie and now runs- at 21- Cape Air’s Key West operations . . . which is scary seeing how much booze that guy can consume) has been my recent accomplice in sinking to new lows. With Jamie spending all his time with his new girlfriend, it’s really nice to have a wing man again. Either I’m his or he’s mine . . . it doesn’t matter. But it’s cool to once again have a like-minded friend to swill beer with and seek out female companionship who doesn’t have to worry about pissing off a girlfriend. Anyway . . . Dave and I started drinking at 11:30 Friday night, stopped for a few hours of sleep, and continued on until 2 a.m. early Sunday. Last night was the highlight, watching a Jim Plunkett type performer at Rum Runners, then dancing with several girls to a good reggae band. I thought I was going to hook up with a cute girl named Shannon, but I lost out to a scrawny kid in a tank top.

Then there’ the wipe out. My right elbow and knee are still stinging, and I left a trail of blood from the door to my sheets, but at least the scooter has just a few nicks. Here are the facts: I had driven down to Tortuga Bay to meet Dave for some afternoon drinking. We took his car to Old Town, where at Rum Runners he left and I stayed to chat up Shannon. Having spent all my cash on booze and leaving nary a dollar for a cab, I walked all the way back to Tortuga Bay ( I can distinctly recall gazing up at the stars and smiling the whole way there).

Exhausted and drunk, I hopped on my scooter, pulled back the throttle, and before I could figure out what happened, there I was on the gravel with a bloody leg. In the whole motor scooter process, there is a thing called the kick-stand. And if you do not release it and try to drive, you will have problems. Luckily the damage to my only asset (I need to sell the damned thing to finance my trip home to Boston), is minimal. Besides, pleading 12 hours of drinking is as good an excuse you can get on this island.

Now I have to get ready for work, and I have sweat dripping from my pits, legs, and just about every limb. Without an air-conditioner, the heat is unbearable. I'm sure Hemingway had AC. But at least this is my last week at Perry’s Restaurant, and in less than a month I will be gone. Although it’s all happening much too fast for my 23 year-old mind.

Soon enough I’ll officially start my vacation (“from myself”, as Bob would say). But first I should begin tackling my problems- selling my scooter and taking care of the apartment. Jamie is going to move in with his girlfriend, but the managers are being hard-asses about the lease. C’mon, man, we live a block from the beach . . . it shouldn’t be too hard to rent this place. But as it stands, I could lose my deposit plus the last month’s rent. I have to do something about that.

And now that I type these words, am I doing the right thing? Pretty soon I will become a member of the unemployed. On my 2 year anniversary of graduating college I will, after spending thousands of dollars and studying my ass off and spending hour upon hour at The Free Press and landing 3 internships, have no job of any kind. Some more sobering facts: I don’t have a car and soon I’ll be living back at home with my parents and I do not have a girlfriend. Also, if everything goes as planned, I’ll actually be spending thousands more dollars to go back to school which will certainly NOT guarantee that I’ll have a career in my field.

What in Sam Hill am I doing?

I guess my advice to myself would be not to analyze my life. Have fun and simply keep faith my wacky choices. I’m not in any way going to let these issues ruin my final days in Key West. Things never, ever, go the way I expect them to, so how can I be disappointed? Just follow the advice of Jimmy Buffett, and make the best of whatever comes your way.