Monday, January 05, 2004 The old barnacles of hatred
In this town, people hand out poems they have written themselves about the need to reconcile with Cuba. They ask me where the weed's at (not with me, much to their disappointment). Everyone here has either a giant dog or a tiny one.
I am sick. I have some kind of cold-flu thing, and I feel like ass, but no coughing, so I think I may have missed out on viral pneumonia like Helen's got over at vomitola.
In the past three days, i have seen three different wild hens herding fluffy baby chickies around. It is very pleasant.
Soon, most of the chickens are due to be deported, because they make a colossal noise. It seems foolish, because the tourists do seem to enjoy the local color. Chickens are way colorful.
I was almost brave enough to go swimming the other day, but I cowardiced out. All along the shore, in between piles of decaying brown sea weed, there were jellyfish. Some were as small as spool of thread, but I saw others the size of softball. I can't stand the idea of one of the bumping up against me while I swim, even if I don't get stung.
A traveling kid kicked me down a copy of "Tales from Shakespeare" by the British scholars Charles and Mary Lamb. I'd been geeking out on it, but I lost it yesterday. It was foolish to put it in the compartment of my bag that forcibily ejects most items.
I hope I get well in time for my study screening in a week or two. It would be so, so sad if I were denied because I already had dystentary. Luckily, my problems right now all seem to be snot-related.
Oh, man. That hot dog guy is really creepy. I see him lure teenage boys into his camper. Presumably with hot dogs.
posted by Frenz | 1/05/2004 04:04:00 PM
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