tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20119470.post6458930440580231926..comments2023-08-20T15:59:58.293+05:00Comments on Dope City Free Press: On the BeachMr. Beer N. Hockeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184518909716677938noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20119470.post-86257876813375281282008-08-08T15:44:00.000+06:002008-08-08T15:44:00.000+06:00"I think what makes the beach so great is its slow..."I think what makes the beach so great is its slow pace."<BR/><BR/>That, and the fact people for the most part - in the hot weather, anyway - are stripped of the consumer baubles which broadcast wealth and status. Sure, people still invest a disproportionate amount of time and money dressing up for the slow promenade, but the effect is deadened by the heat and general indolence of the grazing herd.<BR/><BR/>Drunk or not, if you're deep in the woods you're probably more alert.<BR/><BR/>"Looks like I'm gonna be stuck<BR/>here the whole summer,<BR/>well what a bummer..."ibhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08788986697776895039noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20119470.post-86127387921493442512008-08-08T08:57:00.000+06:002008-08-08T08:57:00.000+06:00Unlike the rest of the human race, I was raised by...Unlike the rest of the human race, I was raised by very odd people. ("Mommy's alright, Daddy's alright, they just seem a little weird.") I asked my mother why we only to the beach once a year for one day. She told me, "There are beach people and mountain people and we are mountain people." By mountain people she meant the wooded hills of upstate New York. She was right. I don't really like the beach that much, but feel in my element in big woods. Drinking in the woods was never anything special, but I used to do heroic doses of acid and spend a couple of days wandering in the woods. I was a pig in shit. That was, of course, then.Your driverhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06406948739451124566noreply@blogger.com