January 1981, Daytona Beach These people fed off of cynicism. They prowled around in deep pools of self-loathing or self-righteousness. Living off of black coffee, rum, and cigarettes. They had this imperialism that drenched the aspects of certain fabrication. They lied-they got what they wanted. Living as a writer equalled in several inevitable outcomes. A remote drinker. An all well off pay, a name that sometimes seemed illustrious, or ludicrous. "You're Cuba?"All Rights Reserved
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