“That something I cannot yet define completely but the feeling comes when you write well and truly of something and know impersonally you have written in that way and those who are paid to read it and report on it do not like the subject so they say it is all a fake, yet you know its value absolutely; or when you do something which people do not consider a serious occupation and yet you know, truly, that it is as important and has always been as important as all the things that, are in fashion, and when, on the sea, you are alone with it and know that this Gulf Stream you are living with, knowing, learning about, and loving, has moved, as it moves, since before man, and that it has gone by the shoreline of that long, beautiful, unhappy island since before Columbus sighted it and that the things you find out about it, and those that have always lived in it are permanent and of value because that stream will flow, as it has flowed, after the Indians, after the Spaniards, after the British, after the Americans and after all the Cubans and all the systems of governments, the richness, the poverty, the martyrdom, the sacrifice and the venality and the cruelty are all gone as the high- piled scow of garbage, bright-colored, white-flecked, ill- smelling, now tilted on its side, spills off its load into the blue water, turning it a pale green to a depth of four or five fathoms as the load spreads across the surface, the sinkable part going down and the flotsam of palm fronds, corks, bottles, and used electric light globes, seasoned with an occasional condom or a deep floating corset, the torn leaves of a student's exercise book, a well-inflated dog, the occasional rat, the no-longer-distinguished cat; all this well shepherded by the boats of the garbage pickers who pluck their prizes with long poles, as interested, as intelligent, and as accurate as historians; they have the viewpoint; the stream, with no visible flow, takes five loads of this a day when things are going well in La Habana and in ten miles along the coast it is as dear and blue and unimpressed as it was ever before the tug hauled out the scow; and the palm fronds of our victories, the worn light bulbs of our discoveries and the empty condoms of our great loves float with no significance against one single, lasting thing—the stream.”
Here we go:
Once, a very long time ago, there was a man, Henry Durrett with the sculptured body, black wavy long hair, emerald green eyed, who thought he had it all, with the money, the looks, the Mediterranean style house, the trophy wife – Sophia - so blond with those dewy blue eyes that would drag you in just looking at you, who in three year’s time though she had managed to steal it all away from him by investing in her lover’s scheme to sell bonds to a group of Russian businessmen who weren’t known for their intelligence; but little did she know these same men were involved with a cartel that was being sucked dry by a criminally insane lawyer who had not only the chief of police, but also the Governor, in their pocket, as well as her husband who somehow found out, in a round about way, that his wife was cheating on him with his best friend, Richard; so he set them all up making it seem easy enough to rob him blind and all the while, he had a secret bank account and a secret love --- much more beautiful and a whole lot smarter than the trophy wife, but who really cares about looks --- as this woman just happened to be an accountant as well as an expert in computer hacking, and at the end of the poor wife’s life, not only was she bankrupt, she’d driven her poor lover insane, the governor had been impeached and indicted, the chief of police fired, but not before he mysteriously disappeared under suspicious circumstances, the lawyer disbarred from every state in the union, while the Russian business men were driven into exile somewhere in Siberia and instead of him being in the poor house, he was sitting pretty as the governor of Barbados, millions of dollars richer and happier than he’d ever been with the lovely, intelligent, very witty, darling female who had neglected to tell him she had just completed her sex change operation, just months before they met and had three children who were now of college age and by three different very rich woman who were all dumb as turnips and she had managed to bilk every one of them for everything they were worth, so instead of living happily ever after, Gloria, so recently having changed her name from Roberto, smiled happily into her drink, pondering how long she’d keep this one on the hook.
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