Thoughts on boats and Frank.



Last night, prior to going to dinner with our production company, I took a good walk along the marina and over to the community center where I wanted to attend a 6:45 AA meeting this morning. When I got back to the hotel, I rested out by the water for a bit, breathing in the fresh air and watching dusk turn to dark. And I started to think.

Who the hell owns all these boats?

There are what seem to me thousands of them. And we’re not talking dinghys, either. These are yachts, baby. And sleek, 50-foot-plus sailboats. “Her Baby.” “Finally.” “My Dreamboat.”

Who can afford these beautiful, blinged-out ships?

I know it’s L.A., World Headquarters of lifestyles of the rich and famous. But still. It all seems so excessive. Especially in times like these.

Anyhow – I gradually moved on from obsessing about boat ownership and on to preparing for the night ahead. If it went as I suspected it would (based on lots of past experience), there’d be bountiful cocktails pre-dinner, a never-ending flow of wine during, and some sort of sweet cordial after. Having not been to a meeting in more than a week, I knew I’d need some help with this expression of excess.

I offered up a little prayer for assistance, and then took a deep breath and said the Serenity Prayer. Out loud, out there by the water.

It felt good, and helpful.

And just then, a woman came rollerblading out of the night. She was shooting her middle finger toward the sea of boats, and stating, very simply and calmly, in time with her strides:

“Fuck you, Frank.”

skate. skate. skate.

“Fuck you, Frank.”

skate. skate.

“Fuck you, Frank.”

skate. skate. skate.

And then she was gone.

I couldn’t help smiling. We all have our ways of dealing with our shit. Mine is working so far. And from what I could tell during that brief scene, hers seemed to be working for her.

Yeah. I quietly agreed.

Fuck you, Frank.


One Response to “Thoughts on boats and Frank.”

  1. Brilliant. That would have made a most excellent scene for a movie.

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