Beached

Random thoughts on a gloomy beach afternoon while listening to Joan Jett and downing San Mig light:

People here are nice. I think it must be the accent. It's been an adrenaline free vacation so far.
The rain was starting to come down but people were still in the ocean. It rains every afternoon and it's only the first week of May.
I keep thinking of the gangster, the australian and the mouse. Not so much as of them personally but more of the lives they lead. Screwed up as they are, I can't help but admire the panache, and semi-integrity with which they live their lives. Right or wrong, they soldier on, marching to the beat of their own drums.
This beach trip is my last hurrah for the summer.
Then its down to focusing on some of what could possibly be my future. Practically shitting myself but trying not to think of it right now.

My beer is almost done and its still raining. Damn rain clouds refuse to move and are ruining a perfectly good afternoon by the sea.
My friend is still in the pool trying to convince herself floating is swimming.
I am a lone woman at this table with an ipod for company, downing beer and writing on a table napkin. I'm getting the expected stares.
Almost everyone here is in a group or with a partner. Except for Brit boy. Female caucasian pair look about my age. They smile. I smile.
People and dolphins like to travel in groups.
My beer tastes good. Want to order another but am restraining myself for sake of grandfatherly waiter. Other guy looks easier to ask.
Cramps gone for now. Flanax saves the day.