Like most of the rest of the country, I got that Lotto Bug – when the
mega millions cracked 200, then 300, then 400, then 500, then $600 Million. And
I play – knowing that my chances are the same as everybody else’s – but what a
night of dreaming the purchase of a big money ticket gives…It’s worth
a-dollar-or-two to imagine the homes, the land, the boat(s), and, the car(s) I
would buy with my winnings.
The homes are always on the ocean, or at least, on-the-water. I want
that Cape Cod-styled home on the corner of Admiralty Way and Marine Drive in
Summerstrand, Port Elizabeth (South Africa): But I also want a place on the
water in Jeffreys Bay. My California home would have to be in Ventura – nothing
too pretentious – but overlooking Pacific Coast Hwy, and, close to the surf
(think Sanjon Road). And, if I were to buy in Brisbane – it would have to be a
river-front place on that big lazy, Brisbane River.
When I think of land, I just think of two places that have freshwater
springs on them: that acre-and-a-quarter in Wheeler Hot Springs (up by Ojai);
and, those 20 acres way up in Tehachapi where the bear and deer come to drink
year round. Of course that 30 acres for sale in Malibu is mighty tempting as
well – but I don’t know about the water situation.
I could probably only handle one boat – and that would be a big, double-hulled
catamaran that I would keep docked at Ventura. I doubt that I would ever sail
the durn thing – but I’d love to get a sunset drunk going and just pass out on
the boat if need be. I would also hope to catch a passing melody, floating on
the salty breeze, and, turn it into a song (perhaps even a salty one –if I can
ever recapture my sense of humor – dissipated by our increasingly schizophrenic
society [but a-few-million-bucks should probably restore it to
me]).
And the cars…well, I’m not much of a car collector or aficionado (I’d
much rather have a chauffeur to drive whatever car we felt like driving (though
I’d love whatever John Steed [of ‘The Avengers’] drove); and, the chauffer would
have to be a dear, old acquaintance – who might be dead by now for-all-I-know —
because when I couldn’t take him in (I was a single parent involved with my two
sons and couldn’t care for a recovering alcoholic) I think Mike wound up on the
streets. But if I won the big money – I’d try to find him and get him driving
ready again, or, apologize at his grave…
But I never win: even if I get into our school pool – I/we rarely get any
of the numbers – and my dreams only hold for the night of the drawing (as I
check my numbers the following day to get my money’s worth of fantasizing in).
It’s sad, tragic even – that the dreams I once held: becoming a rock star; a
superstar actor; a great swimmer; and even greater surfer; and, perhaps rescuing
people less fortunate than myself – have disappeared. Hell! I used to be able
to plot out an entire rock show: note-for-note; and, light show to-boot! Now I
close my eyes and think silly, superfluous thoughts — with no constructive
positives for anyone or anything. It’s like I’ve been infected by
Hollywood…
And the ironic twist in-all-of-this is: the inception to playing the
lotto was a dream of winning a $17 million lotto…dreams within dreams…do I wake
or sleep?