What’s the opposite of a gibbous moon? I had to look it up. It’s a crescent moon. And what’s the opposite of a New York minute? It’s a New Zealand minute. “How long does it take to walk to town?” I ask. “Oh, only about five minutes.” Twenty minutes later, muscles and lungs in full rebellion, I arrive. I wasn’t sad to leave our hostel of the last two nights, even though it had a […]
Read moreMonth: July 2013
A is for …
Firstly, I would like to thank those who leave comments here. They mean a lot to me. I don’t have the bandwidth to acknowledge them individually, but know that they matter. . . . The Irishman here has turned out to be a real wanker. He asked me what I thought of South Americans. “I don’t think anything.” He burst into a smile and high-fived me. “I don’t like them either.” That’s not what I […]
Read moreHowler Monkeys?
I might have sucked at being married, but I feel I’m doing pretty good job with Syd. I think we’re honest with each other, which is hard to be. Rather than bottle up my frustration, just now I worked up the nerve to ask her please not to comment on my driving because I don’t like to feel like I’m being scrutinized, or to rationalize my drifting toward the white line on the left, or […]
Read moreLand Ho!
Last night’s dream: I had gotten a traffic ticket, unjustly. In rebellion, to make a political statement, I didn’t pay it. In consequence, I was required by law to report to the police station to spend a weekend in jail. Adi and Bari were with me and for them, as social activists, a few days in jail was nothing new. But it was to me. Suddenly I longed for my freedom, but it was too […]
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