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My current location forces me to deal with the often cruel realities of the human form and the American experience. The weather is warm and humid. People, understandably, dress accordingly. (Not me. I am in long sleeves, trousers and boots. I look like an old botanist searching for rare orchids. A pith helmet would be the perfect finisher for my ensemble.) With the scant amount of clothing some people are sporting, there is often too little left to the imagination. Oh, what years of freedom and exceptionalism can do to the human frame.
The woman behind the counter at the Starbucks asked me if I went to the beach today. I told her no, that I had gone to the gym. I could see the "you're blowing it" look on her face.
Me, a low-rent James Michener with dreams of Joan Didion, slouching toward deadline. Chronicles of Marnia: Please listen now.