Imagine me using the word “fortnight” as an answer to the question someone will ask tonight; “When did you get back to Annapolis?”
Can you see me on Clay Street or Martin Luther King Boulevard answering that question with “fortnight?” Not that I will even be close to those streets, nor do I have any acquaintances that will say to me; “Hey homey, heard you got back a fortnight ago. Did you get your crib yet?”
“Been at my blood’s place for a fortnight. Looking to secure some employment in a fortnight.”
It would be at that point I will hear the statement; “Lame azz geezer cracker.”
Do you really think any woman would say “yes” if I ask; “How about we get together for dinner in a fortnight?”
Such a classy word that is not part of conversations anymore. Can’t get away with using it unless you do it with a wink.
It has been a fortnight, (wink, wink,) since returning to Annapolis, Maryland. Yes, people remembered me and my name, and some of them are not even bartenders.
I refer to my time away as being in “Wit-less Protection.” Most of it was spent on the Gulf near Crystal River in Citrus County, Florida. It is home to the large, vegetarian water beast called the Manatee.
People from all over Europe came to swim with them in their speedos. Mostly German tourist, frolicking, drinking beer, laughing, and carrying on like Hermann Goring in lederhosen and saying; “ Ich bin ein Manatee.”
The newspaper serving Citrus County is The Chronical, and ironically also owns The Annapolis Capital newspaper. The daily cost of The Chronical is fifty cents, and here The Annapolis Capital is seventy-five cents.
You can wrap about three pounds of gulf shrimp in The Chronical, and about two dozen crabs in The Capital.
The price of a United States postage stamp is forty-nine cents, and it went up three cents since I’ve been away. A postage stamp can hold about thirty-one Sea-Monkeys or brine shrimp
I was also near Inverness, Florida. A place that has sought to increase tourism by making shrines to Elvis Presley from the time he spent there filming “Follow That Dream” in 1961.
People make pilgrimages to the Inverness Court House to go through the museum and touch a doorknob Elvis touched, in hopes Saint Elvis grants a miracle and bestows a pink Cadillac convertible to replace their 1989, F150 Ford pick-up truck.
They don’t pay tribute to the big, fat, sweaty Elvis in a white jumpsuit, but to the young Elvis. There are two, seventy-something year old women who claim they had sex with the “King” at that time, and a few who claimed they rejected his advances, including one lady who said he rented out the Inverness movie theater for their Friday night date. Yet she still insists she rejected him.
She said Elvis was, “Just so down to earth, and just like you and me. He ate a pork chop dinner on our porch. Was down-to-earth, just like Carl, the boy next door, only without Carl’s exploding pimples. Bless his heart.”
Don’t you just love the way people speak of the “rich and famous?”
There is a line the “rich and famous” cross where they are no longer like you and that is usually they don’t have to wait in any line.
The movie theater was under-going a complete restoration as I was leaving. It seats about two hundred people or fifty-three fat Elvis’s in white jumpsuits.
For the most part, Florida is close to a continuous summer for eight months of the year. Shocking to the system when it is eighty degrees like it was during last years’ Christmas week. All the mobile homes were decorated with lights. Still there, and never taken down when I left a fortnight ago, (wink, wink.)
It gives you that same holiday spirit feeling you get looking at an 18pack Budweiser beer case with the Clydesdales trotting in the snow.
I am amazed how most people are telling me since I’ve returned they want to leave the State of Maryland for the tax-free State of Florida.
Here is a tip. The closest place to the lifestyle and culture in Annapolis is St. Augustine.
I will not miss scorpions or the largest spiders I ever saw in my life. I was able to train one spider to bring me coffee in the morning on the agreement I would no longer purchase a newspaper, which is considered a dangerous weapon to a spider.
Spiders are so happy that newspapers are online.
I’ve missed the fall, and the leaves in the gutters. The light rain and chill in the air as I walk alone on West Street.
I have been told I have “the most eclectic, and brilliant blog.” That I keep my audience guessing what I will write next.
I’ve always said my ego is as large as a Manatee, but I still fear men dancing in lederhosen wanting to buy me drinks, or wearing speedos and wanting to swim with me.
In late October, this blog, which I have subtitled as being in a “bad neighborhood,” will be one year old and approaching twenty thousand reads, or about sixteen hundred each month.
I came back to Annapolis to reach a more profitable level with my writing and support my new coffee habit at Caffe Pronto on Riva Road. There, on most days you will see me ordering my fix somewhere around the crack of noon.
Yes, I will publish a book of poems in 2015.
Some of the coming stories on my blog will be about staying with my brother, Troubadour Larry.
The sex lives of Annapolis’s rich and famous, such as a Frenchman named Philippe who has been able to remain friends with hundreds of women even after the foie gras has been eaten.
I’m still friends with Bobby, the married lesbian, but Rachel Maddow still wants nothing to do with me.
Food Businesses in Annapolis and the advent of the fifteen dollar combo meal for the tourist.
“Cocktail Onions, We Hardly Knew Ye.” A gone garnishment from Annapolis Bars.
Until then, keep reading my blog, telling people about it by sharing it, as I try to find a way to become rich and famous so I don’t have to wait in lines, and so you can speak about how down to earth I am eating a pork chop dinner.
I’m so down-to-earth you can reach me at email@example.com