March 4 - Inner Monologue of a Man Wearing Nothing But a Purple Mesh Half-Shirt While Standing Knee Deep in the Water at a Clothing Optional Beach

You are looking good today, Stewart. Seriously, man. You are looking real good.
Baby, you have got this place wired for sound. For real, man: You freaking own this beach. Look at all those square ass fools in their bathing suits and T-shirts and sunblock. They don't get it, man. Not like you do, man. Not like you, you waxed and golden brown piece of ass.
Check me out, dog. Not a freaking care in the world. Let the sun shine on my boys. Let the world see what I've got lurking underneath the hood. Let those waves gently splash and tickle my proud, bronzed, emancipated goodies.
It don't bother me.
Life is too short, G. Life is too short and fleeting not to embrace the world and the sun and the sea and let it embrace you right back.
Dude, make love to that delightful righteousness. For that is why you are here.
Yeah, I know some people might look at me and say: Stewart, you are without a doubt the flyest cat of them all. That I will not question. But why, my man, why do you not go all in with your nu-di-tay? Why must you tease us all with that half-shirt? Stop tormenting our imaginations and for once in your life truly let it all hang out.
People, dig me when I tell you that I do desire to go completely unbound by clothes.
However.
The Stew man likes to maintain a certain aura, a certain mystique, a certain poise. And that, brothers and sisters, is what the half shirt is all about.
Someday? Someday I will go fully nude.
Don't doubt that.
But until then, I must say that I am looking pretty damn fine in the skimpy get-up that I am showing off to God and all of his beautiful, beautiful children.
Stewart baby, you are just too pretty.