no. (roses_rejoice) wrote,

Iron Poor Blood.

So. You spend the morning trying to keep a conversation going in a visiting room on deff row in an area so remote and so Hollywood-picturesque you expect to see Cool Hand Luke running out of the bushes pursued by hounds.

You then drive a couple hours to an outdoor waterfront restaurant/bar on a boat slip where a bunch of yachts are moored on a big ol' bay and dozens of people especially lovely young women with coiffed hair and toothpaste smiles are hanging out with apparently no need to rush back to work from drinking on a Tuesday afternoon, or maybe hanging out at the boat slip on a Tuesday afternoon is their "work."

And while you are eating your very good ginger crusted amberjack with little corn fritters, the sound system quits playing Tears for Fears and starts playing "Folsom Prison Blues." Followed almost immediately by Marley's version of "I Shot the Sheriff."

You feel weird.
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