dispatch from down south v.ii
Everyone thinks the south is losing, and by south I mean any place that is south of another place aka: Florida, Georgia, Mississippi, Mexico, South America, America (compared to Canada), Africa everyone is pretty sure is doomed, Southern Europe, Spain in particular, is to quote my Spanish history professor in Spain somewhat, “retarded,” compared to Northern Europe. And just so you don’t think he was just another traitor he did describe the slaughter of the Aztecs by the Spanish conquistadors as a humanitarian mission gone “slightly awry.” In other words the man called it like he saw it.
Australia is quite far south, but people tend to be all optimistic about it, which I think is only because Australians are like the love child of Americans and Canadians only in a sauna that’s made out of Hugh Jackman.
So, back to what I was saying. I mean there are whole books about why the southern latitudes have never been able to take off like those whily northerners. Was it guns, germs or steel? Well, I have my own theory and it is premised mainly on the daquiri. Did you know that Florida is the mixed drink capital of the world? I do. Southerners drink like they live: in a slow steady rhythm. Northerners drink like they live too: fast. In order to get it over with and move on with something else. Down that fifth in an hour, and you can still be in trial by 9:00 am. That might be okay in Seattle, because they have the whole winter to hunker down and recover. Who hasn’t felt the desire to just sleep through it as the days grow colder and darker? In the south they’re expected to stay alive all year. Life doesn’t ebb much in the heat. Or maybe it cycles faster, not in seasons, but in days the quiet of the scorching noon and the low roar as everything comes alive at dusk.
So who’s really winning. The tortoise or the hare? The grasshopper or the ant? I’ve been keeping a little tally of Me v. Florida and so far as I have not been hit by an SUV as I most definitely should have been while riding my bicycle, and have enjoyed several great meals, but have yet to eat a hush puppy or drink a Fresca, but have layed out in the sun, and suffered a spill from the bike after a glass of wine on an empty stomach, but went to the Salvador Dali museum, and enjoyed both Dancing With The Stars and Breaking Bad, which brings the mid-game score to Ramona 5 Florida 3 and Australia 14.
But the fact that I am even in Florida at this juncture-22 years-old, just quit first viable post-college job in middle of recession, and having minor existential melt-down- tells you that I am not in fact in Florida, but in a nice place we call the state of Denial. I would catch a flight out of Denial, but to leave would force me to accept the terror that I may not find another job, will be forced to give up my SF apartment and move home to Whidbey Island bringing my parents to the realization that their one and only has become another minor failure at life, which in some ways is not preferrable to a major failure involving a full-blown self-destructive meltdown, but is merely caused by laziness and abject despair or more than likely abject laziness and despair. Denial almost always wins, until you acknowledge that there were some problems among other things, or to put it another way: life.