July 2nd, 2004

I Will Not Defame New Orleans.

Biloxi Beach Memoires

'Tis a loverly morning in Mississippi. The sun is hot, the water is wet, people are annoying — so everyone's doing their job. Pamela, four floors below us but with the same view out of similar hotel windows, calls to announce, "SHRIMP BOATS! LOOK OUT THE WINDOW!" Yes dear, they are. The boats look like roaches with antennae. Vermin hunting for bottomfeeders. Appropriate.

The hotel lobby is a freakin' zoo. Checking out is going to be one great steaming clusterfuck.

Wondering what we're going to do for the Fourth. Fireworks, it is same to assume, will probably be involved, but in what capacity, I wonder? Will we be watching them explode prettily in the sky, or will we be aiming Roman Candles at the attendees of Essence Fest? It's a coin toss.

Yesterday, we all split up and did our own things. Ben went to work out. Pamela had a massage. I walked down the beach a mile or so and tormented a sturdy hermit crab for half an hour.

Schmancy-pooh dinner next to a wall of tropical fish with us three and special guest, New Orleans' flawless, must-missed angel, Candace.

Back home in a few hours. I swear to my kitty that one day soon, I'll actually be able to spend some time with her. She's looking listless, and glares at me like, "Who the fuck are you?"