I haven’t been feeling all that well lately. It’s been the beginning of a head cold, wild blood pressure fluctuations, tired bones, over exhaustion, and so on. All of this could possibly be linked to lack of sleep which I am a “blue ribbon” winner in this category. I say this because I feel great on nights when I sleep over six hours. I’m not too worried about this because I spent the first twenty-three years of my life being awake at night and taking short naps during the day. Once, I even had some dumb kid walk up to me with a lollipop while I was napping on a tree limb. What nerve waking me up to ask me how many licks it took to get to the center of his stupid candy. I showed him! I guess I wasn’t too refined in those days. They’re making us look better these days by being helpful and informative. We can sell you cheap eyeglasses, find you hotel deals (cheaper if you room with roaches), and even persuade you to buy medicine which would probably expedite your demise.
But I totally got off subject . . .
Late last week, I was involved in a soul-searching, karma cleansing, self-pilgrimage of epic proportions. In other words, I went to the beach . . . alone . . . at sunrise. Now, you may think: “Big deal. Who hasn’t done this before?” However, this beach was completely empty. I mean, this is the perfect place to be if you want to be abducted by aliens in broad daylight. This might be a good idea if you owe too much in credit cards, alimony, child support, and unpaid I.R.S. taxes. The experience was beyond surreal. There were NO cars in the parking lot and not one person anywhere on the beach for as far as the eye could see.
I haven’t been to this beach in ages and it has gone through many changes since the last time I visited. All the trees and picnic benches are gone. Back in the day, there was no formal parking lot. You would park your vehicle between trees on their roots. I guess the ecologists became infuriated. The actual beach has also been cleaned up. No more submerged huge boulders where assorted fish would congregate and tickle your legs (visual, please) as you walked by in three feet of water. There is a trail with heavy brush on the sides that lead to the sand. I AM SURE there are some exotic and, perhaps, extinct animals living within the dense greenery because I heard sounds coming from there that I last heard while having a nightmare where Timothy Leary and I were walking through the Brazilian rainforests. I will admit: I sprinted through the trail twice because one thing is to have aliens conduct a procto exam on you and another thing is to be swallowed alive by a nefarious emu/sasquatch hybrid with a preference for writers. (There’s an obscure document on a cave wall written in hieroglyphics at Florida Caverns State Park in Marianna, Florida, which states that the emu/sasquatch hybrid prefers to boil writers before eating them in a huge pot to create alphabet soup but I, personally, don’t think it’s true.)
Rapidly, I submerged myself into the salted, fish-urinated sea a total of five times and walked out. As I was drying myself, a security guard on a golf cart materialized. The older man smiled, slowly waved at me, and drove away towards the parking lot. I believe my mental RPMs slowed to a minimum because it reminded me of the scene with the fire truck/fireman at the beginning of David Lynch’s “Blue Velvet.” Was I going to find a human ear in the sand? Was I in Lumberton? This happened again as I was getting into my car except, this time, the older lady in the golf cart said “good morning” as she, too, gave me the hand wave on Quaaludes.
In conclusion, I don’t know what came over me but I felt invigorated after the quick dips. It was an awkward experience but, I believe, I left behind something malevolent at the beach. Perhaps this is what the emu/sasquatch feeds on until the capture the right specimen to consume.
PS: I took a few pictures of the creepy beach and the trail. They are posted on my Douglas Lynn Facebook page for your enjoyment.