By the time you read this the metaphorical fat lady will either soon be singing, or will be finishing up her mythical song at the Tea Dance at La Te Da's on Duval Street. It's the final event in the Fantasy Fest schedule and after tonight the city can revert to proper Fall torpor.
Cheyenne and I were walking Elizabeth Street early on Friday when we were passed by a truck. Which then stopped. The driver got out and went into a house. We stomped steadily up the street. I have no telephoto lense to speak off so imagine how close we were to the top of the hill when I heard the truck door slam and I turned to see the driver back behind the wheel.
These kinds of homes are monstrous expensive rather than picturesque but still...
I thought this was one of the better pictures I have taken of Duval Street, a street that never seems to translate well into photograph. Perhaps it is imbued with too many images of it's own as Key West's most famous thoroughfare. Here from Angela as I recall looking north, devoid of humanity at an ungodly hour of the morning.
A pink party below of dead Conchs lined up for inspection. Probably they come from either a Chinese factory like so much else these days or more likely from some country where rules are less strict than ours where Conch are badly endangered. Perhaps Honduras which makes the purchase of these things even more odd than otherwise. I can hardly imagine a. New York apartment decked out in polished Honduran conch.
The cold front has dried up puddles so Cheyenne has been reduced to drinking from proper bowls put out by kindly businesses. In this case near Cowboy Bills. It used to house Salsa Loca but they have moved to Petronia Street.
She found another bowl at the Green Parrot and she lapped that one up too. The vet checked her put this summer and said she is in splendid health. She eats like a horse but only when she is hungry, she sleeps like the dead releasing huge rippling snores across the bamboo floor where she prefers to sleep for some reason. She loves her walks and now that it is cooling off Cheyenne is getting active again. I let her chae scents, scrounge scraps and drink from puddles in defiance of all proper norms yet she thrives.
The Honda shop has moved to White Street but this place is still looking like an evacuated motorcycle dealer's shop. Where the Fantasy Fest porta potties line the sidewalk Victor used to park a collection of more or less ramshackle motorcycles awaiting parts or attention or both. He promised to sell the building but one can only imagine how much a barn that size would be worth in his eyes.
And there nearby I saw a Harley hard tail chopper, mildly chopped. It looked quite crisp and tidy to my eyes though a lack of rear suspension makes a motorcycle a non starter in my pansy opinion, even if it looks good.
After an hour and a half of chasing her tail Cheyenne finally found a puddle and sat in it.
Some party goer lost his mask, emblematic of the rotors of party going at this time of year.
And Cheyenne found a hard crusty bagel to crunch on. She declined to share.
I figure if scrounged food is working for her...it probably wouldn't taste so good to me. And below we see little known Simonton Lane. Key West Diary: Simonton Lane
And this house appeals to me. In a town boasting the largest collection of historical wooden homes this square concrete slice of modernity jars. Anywhere else I expect it would barely be noticed but in Old Town Key West it is more unique than rare.
And on the subject of rare if not unique porn actor Ron Jeremy told the Citizen newspaper a female star of the same silver screen decided to have sex with a passenger on her way to. Miami from Los Angeles by plane. She was reportedly so intoxicated they had to send a car to Miami so she could appear at an ABC party- anything but clothes. Pornography takes its toll.
For mere mortals contemplating their place in the universe a low wall on Simonton street does the job just fine when they need someplace to sit:
Cheyenne got bored waiting for Godot so we left and thus I have no idea if he finally showed up for them before their beer ran out.
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