The land of the free (free = vacuous)

Does environment determine literature?

I criticize myself that I find it difficult to be post anything bordering on creative while I am here in Florida. But when I think about, what kind of writers is Florida known for? Carl Hiaasen. A dynamic and fun writer, but geared toward mystery and action.

Not the kind of writer I am.

Am I product of my environment? Am I one of those dark, brooding New England writers. I also spent time in Germany and those writers are just as introvertedly psychotic.

So it is really no surprise to me that I find this place completely uninspiring. Everything is bought here in Florida. The tits and faces on women and the front yards of homes.

One day you drive by a construction site and the front yard is dirt. A few weeks later, there is an insta-yard, complete with palm trees, hedges, lawn, walk-way, faux-aged stuco walls.

And the site itself was bought and not natural. There are no natural building sites here. The recent tropical storm Noel eroded the foundations of condo-buildings and homes on the shore. Now millions are being spent on restoring them. Yes, even the sand is bought. Every few years a huge barge floats off shore here and pumps gazillion of pounds of sand back onto the shore.

For building sites inland, first a pond is created to drain the swamp land in order to be able to build on it.

The important feature on cars here is not four-wheel drive to perform in snow, but the rotating hub-caps, or cleaning the last water drop mark off your jaguar, mercedes, bentley, or rolls royce.

Tans are bought, ant and pest free homes are a paid-for luxury, dating and relationships are financial dances.

There is no bottle law, so all the trash has to be hauled to some other state that can accommodate natural landfills.

The mesquitoes and the alligators made this state uninhabitable until air conditioning. Flagler built a railroad in the late 1800s but still nothing much happened here until after WWII. It is a new state. And yet, by now, it is the fourth most populous state in the nation.

Populated by what? Newcomers. Easy-life believers.

In some ways, it is the quintessential American state. It is the new gold-rush state. Golden tans and real estate gold. Gigolos wooing rich widows. (Hmm, something to consider?) And young, busty blonds winking at old rich geezers.

How, amidst these shallow waters, am I supposed to feel inspired to write something of depth?

I know that sounds like whining. And I am sure to get a lashing for it.