Living on porches, looking for the Caribbean at the bottom of rum bottles, swinging into the morning from the jungle that is night, writing a novel and tryng to make just enough money so that the world leaves me alone. Marveling at how every relationship begins and ends with a cup of coffee. Waiting eternally for that final breeze that will take us to the magic Spanish Galleons. But then again, I could just be writing while intoxicated.