the first thing you see when you enter the town of westport is the cemetery. maybe the ancient residents of westport are dead and buried, but they’re certainly not gone. or maybe this town is so well-adjusted, so annoyingly healthy, so filled with artists, artisans, horse-people and hippies — all heavily vitamined of course — that they just look death square in the eyes and get on with their business(of eating granola, whipping quarter horses into line, sculpting bongs, or whatever it is they do here. i wouldn’t know. i’m at the bar knockin back dark & stormies. i know how to have a good time). so pass the cemetery and hit main street, because it’s a wise man who starts with death and moves on. drink up, take your vitamins, and be done with malnutritioned assholes(except me of course).
