I awake in the jungle to jungle noises. I arrived in Kudat yesterday after a 2+ hour, sometimes prayer-raising drive in a minibus. I have no feel for this town—not even the Ria Hotel where I was to get one last burst of wifi, because Howard comes through the door paging me as my taxi pulls up.
Groups of ladies plied the waterfront with conversation, walks and tai chi. Men played with shuttle cocks and repeated jumping exercises. Fathers wrapped in sarongs carried and cooed to their babies. Women smoked the sky with their boiling breakfast pots and chopped the air with their ams. Spit-polished children emerged in school uniforms.
I hadn’t checked into a hotel with a man other than my ex in over 20 years. The atmosphere was so charged I could barely sign. There was a king sized bed, a hot tub, and the two of us for hours and hours. Just after midnight we finally dragged ourselves out of bed and down to the beach. I’d heard something about the Leonid meteor shower.
”They welcome your visitor with a bit of the suburban familiar while you unfold your wildness. It works every time.”
As we slid through one fairly tight crevice we found a large school of shiny yellow tailed fish rather surprised to be in the fast lane alongside the two of us putterers.
I’m screaming around the circular airport drive to find a spot to get rid of this car and I’ve almost made the full circle. I’ll just follow this guy into the employee parking lot. I sneak in on his card swipe–a charmed life.
Greedy barnacles slurped their soup at hillside bistros. Tiny crabs paraded from neighborhood to neighborhood, skittish about the traffic. I drank it all in until my eye finally said “too much for one day;” the end of many city scapes.
Today is 350 day. Where? All over the world there are creative actions. Find one near you and participate. 350 what? If atmospheric concentrations of CO2 remain above 350 parts per million, we face human and natural disaster. who? You, me, all of us. Why? In December in Copenhagen the world’s nations meet to agree [...]
… hair piled into 1970’s prom limos, false lashes, pink clown cheeks, red lipstick and tutti frutti tonga nail polish. Our eyes fasten to our director’s trusted hands as we inhale to sing sweet songs from another century to detail-crazed judges and appreciative fans of the genre, wanna be’s, shleppers and shleppees.