A Reticents Dream...

This sea bird sanctuary is inhabited by large numbers of brown pelicans, frigate birds, laughing gulls, common terns and Costa Rica's biggest community of brown boobies.

i love boobies.
hahah
yeah...they are pretty sweet
shit, i havent seen any in a while now.
i want to teach in thailand next year. or go to australia for teachers college. i need a beach. and a blonde.
my sitings are few and far between
yea
yes
do it
YES!
i want to get some healthy colour
haha
winters are drab
I want some sand in my hair.
no doubt.
sand is nice
yessir it is.
sometimes i think of that little soccerplaying bodyboarder that we ran into first day in Jaco.
the girl?
of course, not the guy. if there was one.
the oh so hot one...with a perfect imperfection appearing as a gap in her teeth and proving that we werent in fact dead yet
haha
she was hot
Awesome, i will save that quote!
and she had a gracious offering...what a delight..how awesome was that...a bunch of whities fresh off the bus...screw the hotel, it can wait...we need to see the beach and the ocean and replenish our malnourished souls for a while...
i loved that place
that day
that day was the stuff that dreams are made of. I am really really hurting for some hard travel, its so damn rewarding.
she was so cute and nice and wow...i felt like the loser in the movie who just stands aside trying to figure out where the ambush would come from...who was tricking us? was she a decoy? who is gonna thief our bags?
yeah
me too
the idea just sends me reeling
Seriously dude, I thought that guy she was talking with would tief my shit the moment i ran into the water with her.
We were the whitest things around.
funny shit.

Past the dishes, general mess, and the snow I can see a soft glow.

The light at the end of the tunnel that has become where, how, and why I live is viewed best in my control area. My bedroom has become my complete and only sanctuary and soon I will never have to leave its walls at all - save the necessary trips. By the end of the week the laptop will be just that, atop by lap. No more broken desk. No more unwanted, talkative distractions. No more having to live in filth.

I tried for a while, perhaps completely unnoticed (so it would seem, although I can't imagine how), but now concede to throw in the dirty dish towel once again. Seriously, FTW. At least, F this W - this world within these walls. It could all be me, and that would be fine; all in my head and nothing more. Whatever. It is there and that is it. I will adjust accordingly. I can only control my own actions, and only to an extent.

I will descend into modern-day troglodyte status and love the freedom and calm that it will afford for me. Maybe I am disgruntled, but I have a solution, one that will work, no less. I will paint my own picture (thank you) instead of having it painted for me, or, at least, instead of having the colour palette chosen for me. I can live with that.

Still, more and more, a reason to look forward, against Buddha's teachings, but a necessary task in this time and place. Live now, but keep hope alive.

Completely aside, I wonder what Buddha would say about Andy Dufresne?

Peacing out,

pigger

Don't Call It a Comeback

Clint Taurus may have been a lemon, but never could he be called yellow.

For two years that six cylinder beast tanked me from A to B, and sometimes beyond. Fond memories of plowing through the Thunder Bay winter roads, ahead of the snow removal crews, ahead of everyone. Grumbling like an old wooden boat because the muffler had long since fallen off, it took me, and others who were lucky enough to feel the plush embrace of its soft, wine interior, to the Hoito, Thunder Bay Restaurant, America, and Red Lake - anywhere, anytime, anyhow.

Nothing could stop the grey tank. Oh, the price of gas might have limited his driving days and the loose struts certainly caused a raucus internal ruckus, but the stereo could be turned up a little louder to drown that out and the gas prices were no overall match for my desire to drive him. Of all the things to have gone wrong for Clint (soon to seize engine, completely F'd transmission, rear tail-light out and broken, struts, creeping rust, lack of muffler and tail pipe, missing front-end undercarriage, several paint marks from poles, etc., and all the special characteristics that developed that only I knew and understood) nothing did or ever could crush his spirits. He was a tough one through and through and never wanted to give up. Precisely why I feel a bit guilty as I look at all that is left of him now: a bent, rusted and gnarled license plate and the $100 cash I was given to finally let him go.

I hope he forgives me.

Now his fate is to be stripped of his dignity and sold for parts while he freezes, naked, in some cold and lonely lot on the edge of town. No, no come back here. A final putting to rest of a great and beastly lad; of a beautiful transporter; of a friend.

Oh Clint. You drank too much, but when that belly was full and the weight was felt through the wheel by my hands and down through my body, I loved to drive you so. I would take you out on the open highway and use your gears the best way I knew. I could drive that car faster than anybody - too much gas at once and he would rebel, reluctant to speed on under all the pressure. You had to ease him into it, give him some breathing room, and then...he would happily cruise on down the road as fast as I would tell him - like Thomas the Tank

My beastly, crippled friend. You did me proud for what seemed like an eternity. I knew everything about you: your strenths and innummerable weaknesses, but in knowing these was able to keep you that much longer. But, now I have said goodbye, one last time to make it official, to have that closure that is so often needed in inevitable tragedies such as this.

I will miss you, sir.

R.I.P. Clint Taurus 1992 - 2006