
I’ve been asked a number of times, "What is it like living at the beach?" My answer is usually a question: "What would your life be if everyday was a day at the beach?" Ask yourself: "would you rather be an accountant in Tupelo, Mississippi or bum at the beach." I think anybody with any sense would rather be at the beach doing nothing than doing anything, someplace else. It’s freedom here – it’s bondage anywhere else. Can you imagine being the tight-lipped CEO, or on the Board of Directors of General Motors? The traders on the New York Stock Exchange are looking at you as if they are watching the fall of Vietnam. When I had, what some people called "a real job" over twenty years ago, the owners wanted me to goose-step like a parading soldier. Salute the "higher margins," and the "return on investment." But I was out of step. Even then I lived at the beach – and it would call to me. "Don’t go to work today! Come on over! Bring the volleyball! Grab a surfboard!" Don’t forget your towel! And then I got lucky. They fired me for being belligerent and persistent in my ill manner. I’ve been lucky ever since – I now have an empty bankbook and no shiny three-piece suit in my closet, no lace shoes and certainly no ties. My uniform is flip-flops and a bathing suit. When I exercise, I run barefoot in the sand. I’m here to tell you: everyday is sunshine –. It’s dancing with Lisa Rinna. It’s cedar-planked salmon with dill hollandaise sauce. It’s life on the edge – both metaphorically and concretely. It’s where the continent ends and life begins. To most people the beach is an idea, a wish, a dream, but living here is real. Living anywhere else is amateur – living at the beach is for the pros.
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48" x 72" acrylic/latex on unstretched canvas