November 20, 2006 - 9:40 a.m.

We ate and drank and swam. The weather was unseasonably warm, even for November. 80 degrees and not a cloud in the sky.

We had a private poetry reading by Iris Berry in the living room at the Beat Hotel. She was the only other guest at the hotel on Thursday night and she stayed with us through the weekend. She was fantastic. A like-minded punk lady with beautiful and true verses. All of us crowded together around the white shag rug, surrounded by original William S. Burroughs artworks. We snapped and clapped in appreciation.

In the daylight we had booze-y coconut snowcones and a higher intake of rum beverages than I've had in a decade. In the evening, we had cocktails with the senior set at Melvyn's at the historic Ingleside Inn. There was a piano bar and seventy-somethings clutched each other tight on the dancefloor during the slow numbers.

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