Hierophany

An inseparable wreck, this body.
And where did they get their hats?

The wanting

Trading, trading.
Creative vehicles
turn air into money.
Tap, tap, tap.  Place
an order.  Tap, tap, tap.
Do you know what
you’re getting into?
Watch the news,
the news is bad.  Tap,
tap, tap.  Blasted alchemy:
pull everything out.  But wait —
the news turns good.  OK, place
another order.  Waiting,
kicking yourself.  Tap,
tap, tap.  Someone must
be on the other side, the
grass must always be greener.
You tap and you tap and you tap.
You get nothing but echoes in return.

Give me that serious look,
more of your forehead
Give me those eyes,
the eyes my friend doth know

Oh, Friend
Those are th' eyes
see past the both of us

January. I did nothing I can recall.  It was a cold month.

February.  I trimmed almost all of our trees, save the two maple a-west the house.  Those trees need trimming.  As for the trees I did trim, my aim was to thin them out.  I don't want the Japanese maple to get too big, e.g.

Also, I planted seeds inside in small pots.  Tomato, bell pepper, anaheim pepper, basil, and cilantro.  Some I set under a light.  Some I set atop the HVAC registers.  I put only one seed to a pot.  I misted frequently to keep the soil moist.  Without exception nothing grew.

March. March was sort of cold but all-around forgettable.  I tried again to get my seedlings going.  I packed the soil less hard.  I put more seeds in per pot.  I dumped the register idea and kept them either under the light (12/12) or on a windowsill.  I had better luck.  The tomatoes started first.  The bell peppers I gave up on; let the pots dry out; watered them again for the first time in a while just in case and -bang- they grew.  I believe the generally increasing temps were the main difference.

Brook and I raked leaves.  I began to clean up outside, taking down all of the dead morning glory vines.  I put them into yard waste bags.  I gathered an old pile of various other yard waste into bags.  I swept the garage.

I planted some forsaken daffodil bulbs in pots.  Eventually about 40% of the bulbs came to fruition.  Ray suggested I packed the soil too hard on them; that I needed to think more about just filling the pot with soil but loosely, instead allowing the watering process (or rain) to pack the soil down gradually.

I took the yard waste bags (nine of them) to Belleville and dumped them along the lake on a windy day when my parents were in Arkansas.  By that time the bags held all sorts of yard debris.  The twigs and limbs of all the trees I trimmed.  Pampas grass.  Weeds.

March was a rainy, grey month.  Crocuses came up; daffodils came up but ours weren't very good this year.  Might have to buy some new ones in October to put in.

It was probably during the last week of March — late by a week or two — that I trimmed back the butterfly bushes.

April.  I bought a few more seeds: mixed hot peppers, basil, chamomile.  But this time we are getting more sun and some warmer temps (it is April 18 as I write, and we have had 5-10 80-degree days already).  Using the windowsill and also just by setting them outside, I got the basil and hot peppers going.  The peppers really want to be warm to germinate and direct sunlight is nonpareil.  I am either misting seeds/seedlings with a spray bottle or now misting them with the garden hose at least once a day.

Tulips came on and are the best flowers to date.

Clematis darts up the fence as we look out the kitchen window.  Clematis along the back west fence is also off to a good start.  I attach it onto string to help it get going.

I start spending more and more time outside.  I take my shirt off after work and sit on the deck, with a beer, just letting the sun pound me and lick me.

But it's a short honeymoon.  The green stuff starts around April 5.  Coinciding with them,  the blossoms appear on trees.  I guess it's tree pollen.  Allergies hit, Brook's worse than mine.

I decide to get proactive on this green shit.  We keep our windows mostly closed but still it finds its way in through the back door; on our shoes, feet; Squirt.  This is evident when I swiff.  The deck and porch are filthy with the allergenic green dust.

So I do something I've never done before.  I hose it all down.  I get both hoses out: black hose with signature series Vigoro nozzle on back deck; green hose with less cool nozzle out front.

Hosing the back deck turns out to be a breeze.  I find I enjoy it very much because it really is effective.  I use mostly the "FLAT" setting and push the dust away, away, and then over the side of the deck.  I do this first on, say, April 5.  Again on April 7, 10, 13, 17.  Quickly, though, I realize I am gripped in an arms rage.  Once isn't enough.  You have to keep after it.  Especially when it doesn't rain.

And so after a terribly rainy 2009 and a rainy January/February/March, I can remember maybe one real April rain through the 18th of this month.

I also hose down the front porch.  There are low areas from which water doesn't really flow.  Some probably leaks down to the sub-porch, which I want to avoid.  But having a clean front porch is worth it.  I hose parapets, columns, chairs, the table, the swing, windowsills, the mailbox.  I find it very rewarding.

I have brought out the outdoor/indoor plants: three gerania are scraggly but alive; one is very shy of sun early and so I put it in partial shade; I chuck the oregano/chamomile in the window-style box.  I put Osmocote granules in the gerania.  I go through them all and clip the dead leaves and branches.  They are outside now for good.  From the basement I bring up the lavender and the rosemary.  I clean them up and feed them likewise.  They are happy to be back outside.

Some of the potted, very-late-start daffodils actually flower.  I water them not quite enough.

I bring out into direct sun some of my seedlings and also some of the not-yet-germinated seeds.  A couple of the tomatoes get burned in only a few hours' sun.  So remember: for tomato seedlings started indoors (esp. grown under a light as opposed to in the windowsill) start out with only an hour of sun and build from there.

When nights are down to 40 degrees Fahrenheit, I am not leaving the seedlings out at night but instead putting them back on their windowsills or under the light.  When night lows are not below 50 I will leave them out 24 hours.  I have them, though, in spots outside where they will not get direct sun all day, but only from morning through about one o-clock in the afternoon.  I am misting them at least once a day, or watering them in some fashion, trying to keep the soil moist.

I have by this time trimmed back dead branches from both hydrangea.  I cut as low as a finger's width above the new growth.  I am also regularly watering the east-side hosta and peonies — I'm giving them water by hose, more than I've ever done.  They love it.

I have planted chamomile and garden coreopsis seeds in big pots to set around wherever.  The chamomile I intend to harvest for tea; the coreopsis I'll cut for flowers inside.

I am watering the out-back azalea more than usual.  Same goes for the three azalea out front.  Around April 10 (about a week too late) I gets into the two garden plots and turn over the soil.

There was a good amount of our compost on top of each plot.  Some wasn't so well so well composted.  I tried to take some of that out (corn cob).  With the big shovel I dig in as deep as I can, pull up, dump it over.  Leave it.  The soil is getting easier to work every year; een the bigger, side-garage plot which is a heavy clay soil.

The robins pounce when I cease this digging — worms crawl for their lives.  A week later I come back and try to break up any big clods left over (there are some very truculent clods in the side plot).  I throw in some 10-10-10 granule fertilizer and work that down.  A cucumber volunteers and I preserve it in the small plot.

I have a great reduction planned in what I'll plant in the garden plots this year.  In the prime, small plot: one tomato, one bell pepper, and one cucumber.  In the side-garage plot, one tomato, basil, cilantro, maybe some lettuce, and then just flowers.  I try to make raised mounds or rows where all of this will go in.

Out behind the garage, I let the strawberries run.  They are spreading.  There are about a dozen flowers back there.  Some mint.  Otherwise, the hukurah Ray gave me last year is back with a vengeance.  Beside that, I tried to weed and then drop a bunch of wildflower seed on top of those weeded areas.

Brook and I move the woodpile and put it in the NW corner of our backyard, out of sight.  That gets rid of the wood in the garage and under the deck.  This makes me very happy.

Brook mows the lawn on April 10.  That's the first time the lawn is mowed.  I sweep up.  She mows it again on April 17 and I sweep up.  The front yard is a disaster and an eyesore.  We don't know what to do.  Brook bought some jaguar fescue and I'll get it down but it hasn't happened yet.

There are certain events that mark Spring's progression and I want to run down what I've seen so far:

1)  Tree pollen:  April 1.
2)  Yarn doodles:  April 14.
3)  Whirly birds:  April 18.

Also sprouting by the second week are morning glories that I put down around April 1.  And wildflowers that I put down around April 1.  And some returning bee balm.  I have been watering these seeds and seedlings almost daily.

Weeds are starting to get unruly.  Hibiscus sproutlings wild strawberries, a whole shitload of others I can't name.  To combat this, on April 16 I take the day off of work and go get eight lawn waste bags of tree leaf compost from Shaw Park in Clayton.  I spread it first on the garden plots; then around the back hydrangea, in and around the irises; around the morning glories; in the small plot at the back gate (note: a grape tomato volunteered in said plot and I have nurtured it; same thing happened last year such that it seems I don't have to worry about growing grape tomato seedlings anymore).

I use some compost also out behind the garage on the hukurah, strawberries, around a few small sunflower seedlings.  I use a bunch on the west side of the house around the clematis, the butterfly bush transplant.  We see this area while standing at the kitchen sink.  The main idea is to keep weeds from going crazy there.

Brook and I go back to Shaw Park the next morning (April 17) and get just as much more compost.  We mulch the butterfly bush, the rest of the irises, and the whole strip of hosta and peony a-east the house.  We gets some of the hibiscus there as well.  Again, the idea is not just to provide a dynamite food source for those plants but also to aid us in our effort to reduce weeding.

April 21, 2010.  I stayed home from work today.  It is now 17:00.  I have been doing outside work since 7:00.  I started by sweeping the front porch.  It had a bunch of yarn doodles and tree pollen on it.  I then used shower water (via the lovely EBH) to water the small NW butterfly transplant, the western store-bought clematis, and the other westerly butterfly bush transplant.  I poured water from the purple bucket into the watering pitcher/pail so I have a more even application.

Then I swept up a whole bunch of whirlybirds from the back concrete.  I weeded the wildflower patch.  Then I de-whirlybirded the large garden plot; then I tried to work its soil, mainly trying to reduce clods.  The clods are mostly clay chunks that I've unearthed.  I then watered the result.

I then did a host of other backyard watering.  I will note this date, April 21, for the prevalence of a couple of other phenomena:

(1) hibiscus seedlings: I fucking hate these little bastards;

(2) mosquitoes and gnats: as I am outside at 10 a.m. no less the little fuckers are already going at me and I'm like, "It's April 21st at ten in the morning, WTF!?"

So I digress.  But I continued on with my outside work.  I put in a second tomato seedling.  Yesterday, in went the first in the prime plot (the smaller one, full sun).  The one I planted today went into the larger plot, i.e. the side garden plot).  I also put in a bell pepper seedling into the gate plot where I removed the crocus and tulip bulbs (this marked the first time I've ever dug up bulbs to re-use).

In the tiny gate plot I've got one grape tomato volunteer and one bell pepper seedling.  That will be all.

In the prime plot I've got one tomato seedling (4/20) and now three apparent cucumber volunteers.  I will pull at least one of those cukes for the sake of crowding.

In the side plot I've got the tomato seedling I put in today.  Then I've also go three other mounds I built up today with the intention of planting in them:

(1) basil seedling

(2) bell pepper seedling

(3)  hot pepper seedling or cilantro

I have this year greatly reduced the amount of "stuff" I am trying to get into my garden plots.  I haven't put down any lettuce, carrot, onion, beans, as in years past.  I might try *some* lettuce but it's so much strain on my hamstrings to cull and pick.  We will see!

Also today I dug up all of the bulbs that I had planted in pots.  I worked all seedling pots so that they only had one seedling left growing in them.  I have two plastic pots on the deck (large pots) with

(1) a bell pepper seedling

(2) a hot pepper seedling

I cut a lower branch off of the decorative plum that was growing out onto the deck.  I'm not sure if it was "good for the tree" or not; I didn't want it there; I cut it.

I culled chamomile seedlings.  I picked whirlybirds from the strawberry patch out back the garage.  I watered them.  There are a lot of potential berries out there.  Thirty?!

A bunch more whirlybirds fell over the course of the day.  You can't even tell I swept them all up this morning!

April 23, 2010.  Rain today.  It rained last night, too.  This was the most rain in a 24-hour period in about two months, in my estimation.

A whole shitload of whirlybirds are out there.  Worse than ever.  So I haven't done any watering the last two days.  I pulled my seedlings and potted flower sprouts out from the open.  I didn't want splashing rain to dirty them.

Yesterday Brook took the day off of work.  She got a bunch more compost and spread it beginning where we left off, wrapping around from the side (hibiscus) to the front of the house.  She got most of the front, specifically the Japanese Maple, the three azaleas, the boxwood, and the front hydrangea.  She left off at the pampas grass.

She also got some limestone walking stones.  We will put them in soon, no doubt.

As for the events that are "coming of season" I want to note April 23 as the first day it feels at all "muggy" outside, no coincidence with the rain that's moved in.  Still, I did a brisk 20 minute walk at work and I wasn't sweating.  In any event, I'm gonna get the de-humidifier out soon.

Oh, three of the four azaleas are blooming; the pink/red azalea out back and the two pinks out front.  The red azalea out front is always the last to bloom.  It's immediate neighbor to the west is struggling and might well need to be removed.  I walked "the grounds" yesterday before work, very pleasant of mind.   Haven't been outside since.  Forecast for tomorrow is rain.

April 24, 2010.  Mid-afternoon.  The rain is here but it was so kind as to allow me first to get outside this morning and spread by hand the Milorganite fertilizer I bought for the lawn.  It is an organic, "no burn" fertilizer that I can apply at any time of the year.  I just went out with some in a small pail and scattered it like alms all over the backyard, trying not to toss it on especially weedy spots.  I didn't spread any out front yet.  Nor on...or did I?  Yeah, I did spread it out front, now that I think again about it.  I've got a bunch left.  I'll put more on in September.

I also began my hardcore, super-tedious weed and seed project out front and along the driveway.  I am mainly leaving the violets alone and focusing instead on the even weedier weeds.  I spent a couple of hours at least mostly going along with the forked-tongue weeding tool and then tossing seed on the areas I'd disturbed.

This is a slow process considering the amount of weeds out there.  I also weeded some sidewalk/driveway cracks.

Then I got out a rake and tried some macro-application (vs. micro via the weed tool).  So I would broadcast some seed, disturb a large swath of non-grass yard and then broadcast again and then try to stamp it down.

I don't have much hope for the macro application.  I have to fix that front yard weed-by-weed.  And I need help from B (she has been helping out a lot).

So, yeah.  Now it's raining.  I have showered.  I'm watching the Dodgers at the Nationals on MLB Roku.

What a pleasant afternoon.

The END.

P.S. Whirlybird Apocalypse 4/24/2010.

12" x 16"
acrylic on canvas
(2009)

the hims and the theys
the hymns and the lays
chime and tether
chimera hummus
she says, she says
thelonius the onlius
monk monk
bunk bunk beds
together like a
smorgasboard

Checkpoint Charlie Dolce Kevil 400 Where the fuck is Stuckey?  Blow by blow western female Roy Mosaic Big Daddy's Ferrarro's for linner all the extras gone by the time the second cab came home when it was light on Sunday morning.

Oh as in Oh really. Rough jeans. Sorry. AJ asleep a blue drink in front of me whose was it who knows what's in it don't know that either tastes like tequila you have to drink one drink an hour according to state law (Blogo). Geoff's pizza went up like smoke when he walked away for a minute. He gave me a hug but I was already smiling (inside).

***

Drinks, early. White wine and beer. Getting ready for an Irish dinner. Artists, rebels, and badboys. The Temporaries on display at the Temporary Museum. 314-962-0093. The number waiter Jen has on her hand in black marker. Jake appears out of the dusk of fish and chips and AJ's red bull and vodka. Roy gets a call from Davíd, who's on the Metro roundabout Forest Park. Sweet. Back at the rooms Davíd says, "Wow. This really happened." Someone turns the music up. There's a beat. There's just something about you baby that makes me want to give it to you. Hour five or so and Roy is way past that. He drops a cinder on the duvet and I score it an E-9. Kevil reaches for the club soda and I thank God for an ally in the war on incidentals.

Tigin. Roy Sr. The next day he asks his son, "You guys eat that fish yet?" The coolers working overtime. We only had to ice them once. Pabst, Founder's, Torpedo. Molly's. Aubrey's. That blonde with the ten-cent rack. Roy in form. James at the bar to get a round for us when someone else comes along and hands me a beer. I don't ask why, I try Bud Dry. Talking to a guy in a Pirates hat, he doesn't know the Cards are playing them, it's just a hat. Anyone named Roy eats and drinks for free.

Walking down the hill to Broadway for MPO's/Lafayette's. Someone gets me a bud and I go right to the dance floor. Pounds and pounds. Me and three others. A little bit of love just above the waist. A pimp wears red leather. Roy: "He went out there and did all of his moves in about ten seconds." Pat joins us. She says she has a husband. All I want to do is dance so that is what we do. The place closes at one-thirty.

Outside we are looking for cabs. Two gals are yelling at each other from opposite sides of the street. Geoff says it would have been some kind of catfight. One of them was wearing some pretty skimpy clothing and something would have definitely come off.

Where are we going? Where are we going? Am I getting in this cab? Am I really going to Pop's? (Or as Jake will say tomorrow, "I can't believe we went to fuckin Pop's.") Pop's was like a dream. Remember one thing and you'll remember another.

Pop's a saloon. Mos Eisely space cantina. Immediately come in and see that gal in the red shirt doing a pole dance on an imaginary pole. She would've danced with anyone and yet she was dancing with no one. High, drunk, still uncomfortable. I order a Bud. Pat begins his verbal assault of the band. "Look at the guitarist. He's wearing a fucking sweater vest." Some gal up on the stage dancing. Alright looking, blond. The dance floor dead except for a couple of OK looking younger gals. I took my Bud out there and gave it a whirl. It's hard to dance to "Everything Zen" but I was doing it. A chunky gal named Lisa came out and joined me. She was cheery enough but I didn't last long.

Roy was working the tables, visiting with ever' girl and woman along the way. At this point, he has stopped remembering the evening a long time ago. He was doing what someone the next day described as the retarded T-rex. I remember one lady he was dancing in front of. Fiftyish, short blond hair. It was Pat who said she was bothered at first but when she realized how drunk Roy was she concluded he was harmless and let herself be amused.

A terrible rendition of a Britney Spears song. Kevil flabbergasted by the $25 beer he just ordered. I had had enough. Pat too. The band is still on and he is really letting them have it now. "You guys suck!" He is drawing some looks from the loyal patrons. I am going around to everyone in our group trying to put together an exit troupe. Kevil was bouncing off of tables. Everyone I talk to, including Roy and Jake, say they are ready to leave. But I can see in Roy's eyes that he is looking right through me.

The band comes off. Some finally upbeat music comes on and a big line dance with full participation breaks out on the once-dead dance floor. Jake has disappeared. Roy I realize is not going anywhere. I am toast. "Roy? Roy?" I give up. But James and Davíd won't leave him. Roy calls these men his troopers. Me, Pat, and Kevil cut and run.

No cabs in sight, just Solutia and Akzo-Nobel brewing up the good stuff. The Oz is to the left. Penthouse and PT's within walking distance. I have cabbie Azeeim's number. Patrick calls him. Several minutes later another cab comes and we get in it. Kevil goes and lays in the back seat, farting. Pat, who had called Azeeim, now calls to tell him (at my suggestion) that we don't need him to come get us. "Yeah, ah, I just called for a cab from Pop's. Sorry, but another one came and we got in it. So we're good."

Azeeim: "But I'm almost there."

Pat: "Yeah, we got another one. Sorry."

Azeeim: "I'll be there in two minutes."

Pat: "We are in another cab."

I talked to our cabbie but I don't remember about what. Didn't have a meter. Jenkins Cab Co. I was kind of afraid he was going to charge us a ton. It took only $18 to get there from MPO's. We pulled up to Hotelumiere. $15. Pat gets it. Kevil wheels himself out of the van. I help him up a bit. He is shitfaced. He might fall over in the lobby. Pat says to the person at the desk, "Two out of three sober isn't bad." It's all fun and games. Kevil uses a wall or two. Pat begins to roll footage on his phone. Glass-backed elevator up. Kevil goes to bed. It's 4:30. Pat and I sit there talking and smoking but I am starting to nod off. When he leaves I go in the bathroom and j-it.

I go and get the bedsheet off of the other bed. I am asleep on the couch about 45 minutes when I hear a knock.

It's Jake. He nods quickly, his eyes wild and tired at the same time.

"Where's the rest of the crew?"

No response. He goes to the bathroom.

"How'd you guys get home?"

No answer. He goes to bed. I head back to the five-foot couch and fall asleep quickly, waiting.

***

Peet's. Me kevil and Jake on the river. Talk of Billie Mays Hayes and his cocaine heartbeat. The Sham-wow guy got his ass kicked by a chick in Vegas yeah there was claw marks and shit all over his face you gotta check out the photos. Jake: "How long have chamoises existed anyway." Someone else says, "Thirty dollars a month on paper towels. Outrageous!"

Trucking out the trash. Filling the cans near the elevators. The far and the near. Onesies. Batties. Fake Amelie's fake tits. Getting very near to them and inhaling. Davíd in the corner on a couple of cushions. Kevil jack-knifed on one bed. Jake jack-knifed on another. Roy on the floor. Me on a short-man's couch. The mini-bar is protected by sensors. A brunch of cracker/sausage/cheese. Bruder basil.

***

That's some checkpoint, that checkpoint Charlie!

    Live now and repent.
Consolation is a cup of coffee /
    tease me tomorrow.

First Full Day — morning

I am attending to a sunrise in Jamaica.  Rightly I am not awake yet.  Waves, waves, dolorous waves.  Peltering shores at dayfall.

Why is it getting light in the west before it gets light in the east? The east is dark, blue.  A tiny boat out ripping the water is black.

Last night a jumbo airliner flew in from Costa Rica, I’m sure of it.

Brett got a taste, Pat a tree.  I put a tiny leaf in my pocket & smiled at the smell.

There is apparently no café ready yet.

A little to the east,
A little to the left,
A little bit of morning,
People-bereft.

Before the grackle wakes,
Only a palm tree sways.
Not blasted, not stumbling.
The thunder
Rum-rum-rumbling.

*

A dove is cooing, asking, “Who cooks for you?”  I awoke to, Was it a baby crying? No.  Just the wind, whipping through the walls.  What a relief to discover, not to have been bothered by.  So I stayed awake, to see what of a sunset to see.  It got light first in the west.  Still today it is overcast, but it is clear to the south & west.  Maybe that clearness is what’s to come.  The gaggle of quiet Jamaicans below disperses.  Security guards? Four guys w/ satchels slung.  One has a blue umbrella.

It must have rained more overnight.  There is water standing in many places, there as if a surprise to the building.  What is this wet stuff?

Sprinklers kick on, it is seven o’clock.  By my watch anyway.

I smoked some grass last night & horked some wet yay.  Also did a numbie.  People were high.  And tired on a travel day.  I thought I grabbed one of Pat’s 1.5ers but now I can’t find it.  The coffee in the rooms is 100% Jamaican.


Second Full Day, morning

I passed out way too hard, way too early last night.  Today I will ask my friends: Where all did you go last night?  I could not find you in my dreams…

Things move slowly here.  The clouds are a good example.  Getting water at breakfast is another.  I have that hollowed out but tight feeling; hollowed out from booze, tight in the lungs from the fat one.

My joke is that I performed a one-act play last night.  Entitled How Not to Spend a Night in Jamaica.  E.g.  dead as a rock.  So I’ll have to be on probation today.  Beer only, when I get my thirst back.

Yesterday we were in Pat’s room blowing the fat one.  B knocked over a glass and Brett said he was too high to help.  “THTH,” I said.  It was something Roy would have found funny.

I woke up at 3:30.  Had that terrible taste of death in my mouth.  It is the dry residue of drinking.  I did not know where I had gone, what I had done last night.  I was worried that I had done too much coke & made a mess of many things.  What a relief to know that there was a reason I had no memory post-sunset: Indeed I has been asleep the entire time.  My body cut me off, laid down the law.  Thank you, body.  I must be good to you, body.  Do you believe me, body? The body does not believe, it only perceives.  The body is no fool.


Second Full Day, afternoon

There is jerk chicken at a hut on the south end of the resort.  The hut is called the jerk hut.  The chicken does not look like what I knew to be jerk chicken.  The bones are still there.  Jerk chicken I knew was like pulled pork.  This chicken is barbecued and smoky.  Someone asked me where the jerk hut was and I said, “Follow the smoke.”  Drumsticks are the best but no one’s guaranteed to get one.

Besides chicken there’s paella that cooks in an enormous skillet.  I watched it bubble until it wasn’t bubbling anymore & then it was ready.  It has shrimp, pork, & mussels in it.  There is sauce for the chicken, one hotter than the other.  Today the hot sauce was really hot, hotter than yesterday.  After I went over my chicken for the first time (knife & fork) I ate the paella & it had some of the sauce in it & it was very hot.  I think it would have been plenty hot on its own.  With the sauce it was really hot.  Then I went back over the chicken a second time ‘cause I knew there was more on there.  I had to use my hands & gnaw on it to get the rest, which turned out to be a lot.  

The fella who sold us some things wanted me to bring him some of the chicken.  I did but then I couldn’t find him.  It was a huge disappointment, walking around w/ a plate of chicken for him nowhere to be found.  Then I haven’t seen him at all today.

He looked to me like Alfonso Soriano but he had a goiter-like thing on the right side of his face under the jaw.  He wore rubber boots and carried a machete in a wooden case.  He used the machete to trim bushes & edge grass.  In hindsight I figured someone w/ a machete isn’t the guy who you want helping with things.

On sailing.  The guy said we weren’t going anywhere because I was not giving the sail enough slack in low wind.  In high wind he said you could flip if you set the sail too tight.  He talked about giving the sail belly.

Our maid is Donnette.  I left her a note that said ‘You are the best!’ and under it I lay $5 US.  But later I tore it up, left a note saying ‘Thank you!’ and under that $3 US.  Just now I realized she isn’t very good at sweeping cause we haven’t been at the room since it was cleaned and just walking around for a minute I had sand & dirt on my feet.  I thought, Damn next time I’ll pack a swiffer.  The people in the room below are outside under our balcony and a bit loud right now; alas, I am too easily disturbed…

*

The door to the balcony is now closed; I am twenty minutes from the last paragraph.  I have our music going now inside here.  There are rudimentary iPod docks.  Our maid’s name is Donnette.  Everything else looks real good but I guess the toilet doesn’t get a daily cleaning.  There are a lot of rooms for one person to do.  No teams of two here.

Soy su camerara is what the maid in Pat’s room said to us yesterday when we were thanking her for helping clean up the broken glass.  She said it very matter of factly but in English, I’m your maid.  Like, Yes, this is what maids are for.  She got us a broom & we swept up while she went looking for a dustpan.  She was gone for about 10 minutes.  The champagne.  That’s what did me yesterday.  Forgot about it all til now.  

I am growing out a Hemingway stache.  The maid came back with a frisbee as a dustpan.  A frisbee!  I did a double take.  Yeah, you could put the big pieces of glass in there, but you can’t exactly just sweep the little stuff right into it.  A frisbee!  It just about broke my heart.


Second Full Day, night

Dinner was good but long.  My back hurt at the end, talk was scattered.  Basil, our waiter, brought coffee at the end.  For mine he apologized that there was no cream in it.  I don’t take cream so it didn’t matter a bit.  We tipped him $12 US.

Besides the coffee, I liked the smoked marlin, served as part of a salad bar along w/ some good cheeses & grapes.  We went back to Brett & Tab’s room to partake of things.  Brett had the lead.  I do not know any baseball scores.  Today was a Monday.  Brett said that his drink for the rest of the trip is piña coladas, Nice & easy.

B points out someone who is writing on a moleskin.   We are in a little lounge area.   Pleasant but hot.   It is time for couples photos.

The music is modern lounge music.   I am not too burned.   Snorkeling was a workout.   As I was stroking out to a dive spot my shoulders felt strong & right.   But I don’t know how hard I could have swum without the snorkel.   Now Pat & Anne are taking fake butt photos with their elbows.

There are frogs going at night.  A high pitched chirp, Bee-Balm, Bee-Balm, Bee-Balm, endlessly, slowly but never stopping.  Or, stopping for awhile & coming back out w/ Balm…Balm….  


Third Full Day, morning

Anne said to us, You guys are on vacation.  You need to be really high.  But I haven’t felt really high yet, even with all of the grass we have.  We have no way to smoke it of course except as in a joint.  Pat tends to roll too tight.  When he makes a small one he calls it a pinner.  The big one he made yesterday we called a torpedo.  It was a real fat fatty.  If you want the quickest drawing joint in town, though, Tab is your girl.

It is Tuesday today, which means the only full day we have left is Wednesday.  Thursday our flight to America leaves at 12:37 pm.  We have to be on a bus at 8:30a.  Cars drive on the left side of the road.  There are no lane markings.  We were talking about taking a half-day trip to Negril, which is south & a bit west of here.  That sounds good in theory.  Negril has a very nice beach & a stellar view of sunsets.  But I want to loaf hard-core today.  


Third Full Day, afternoon

Last night we were looking at stars.  In the northern sky I saw for sure the Big Dipper.  Using that as my starting point, from there I also thought I had: Cepheus (west), Draco (weaving in the north sky amongst the Big & Little Dippers).  I debated Tab a bit about where the Little Dipper was.  I could not find Cassiopeia.  A very bright star in a group of four stars I thought was Sirius in Lyre.  Then the other brightest star was a reddish star straight up, west of the Big Dipper.  B thought it might start with an A.  I also saw the Corona Borealis straight up.  Tab & I thought we could see the blurry wisp of the Milky Way until it floated east.  That was a big disappointment because it was full of a million stars.

It was one of the best sky views I have ever seen, comparable to the Mojave.  Even w/ damn resort light blaring 20 feet away.  West of the Big Dipper was a big cluster of stars, sort of shaped like a Cylon bay ship.  Just east/north of the Big Dipper’s ladle were a bunch of distant stars, too.  I am kicking myself for not bringing my star chart.  I did not foresee us looking at stars.  But when you are down on the beach w/ a torpedo and the stars are right there on top of you, they are irresistible.  We saw several shooting stars.  Pat & I were the only ones who saw what I thought at first was a missile b/c it burst into smoke and left a trail.  It was the most blatant asteroid I have ever seen.

I did remember to bring my compass/thermometer.  I did zero research on Lucea/Grand Palladium before the trip.  I am usually above such a load of nonchalance.  When we got here I had no idea which way was north, or which way we were facing when we looked out over the ocean.  I told Tab south was north and vice versa.  

An oil tanker on the horizon I told Brett was coming from Mexico or even Brazil (PBR).  But it was really passing between us & Cuba.  It could have been coming from anywhere.  This morning B & I saw a cruise ship, big as bertha off to our NW.  When we looked again a half hour later it was already gone.


Fourth full day, morning

B & I retired early last night.   We said ‘To Hell’ with another long dinner (it would have been my second, her third) and delighted in snappy burgers & fries in the sports bar.   The rum runner I had there knocked me for a loop.

We came back to the room and watched “JEOPARDY!”.   The FJ question was: “Ayn Rand is said to have said, ‘I did not know that The Fountainhead’s destiny was complete until you told me of your admiration for it.’” Or some such thing.   I did not know it; B did: Frank Lloyd Wright.   The lady who tore up DJ guessed E Hemingway.   She lost.   The guy who won spelled Lloyd with only one l.

After that I flipped around for a while until I became transfixed by this beautiful French movie (w/ English subtitles) set in Indochina in what must’ve been the Fifties.

It was a French platoon that was not doing so well along w/ their non-Viet Minh Viet associates.  The French were lugging around four on stretchers, two of whom died while I was watching.  The captain was smoking cigarettes.  The French went from village to village.  One village chief said that the French upon their arrival must hurry up and leave (taking any rice they wanted) b/c the Viet Minh had just been there & would be back.  There were at least two river crossing scenes.  

In one, a body on a stretcher was dumped & washed downstream.  So too downstream went a machine gun.  The captain got very upset.  The movie was in black & white.  It reminded me of Malick’s “The Thin Red Line.” TRL as me and Roy call it is set in the South Sea, during WWII.  Some have said it is based largely on the battle for Guadalcanal.  The pathos & struggle in these two movies had the same tone & break.  It was a splendid picture & I shall endeavor the name of it when I return home.

I fell asleep w/ the movie still going.  I don’t recall turning the TV off so the power must’ve gone off at some point w/i an hour or two of me falling asleep.  Brett called from the A&P to say they were hanging out there.  But B & I were asleep.  I told Brett I didn’t think we’d make it.

I like these mornings here, writing w/ coffee, waves lapping up in Coral Cove.  The sun already formidable on my forehead as I face northeast.  

I can see what I guess are mountains to the distant south.  I suppose they are blue.  B remarked that she did not realize that Jamaica was so mountainous.  Driving here it seemed that much of it was also hilly.  B tells me now she’s gonna go get some photos.  The sun is sprinting up the eastern sky.  Workers below talk softly.   This is our last day here.

B & I were going to fire up a J last night.  At least until we realized that we had no light.  At some point this week I had a small black lighter.  I guess I gave it back to someone.  Pat was even telling me to take a black lighter that was sitting on his table, but for some reason I didn’t.  I guess I was momentarily confused b/c the one on the table was also a black lighter but not small like the one I had.   So I thought, ‘Maybe I didn’t give that little lighter back.’ And I figured I shouldn’t take what would be a second lighter.  Ah well.  I suppose we did just fine w/o the J.  But perhaps I would’ve stayed up & written a bit more, which makes any facilitation worth it.  I still suspect I have that little black light around here somewhere ‘cause I don’t remember handing it back to anyone.


Fourth full day, Speed Round

Carts that talk; carts that will run you over; Real Rock; wata; daily rain; daily sun; flounder; sore neck; catamaran; Coral Cove; who cooks for you?; aloe; the painting of the smiling Jamaican girl w/ a basket of bananas on her head; fruit at the buffets, specifically mango & papaya; in-room coffee the best I’ve ever had; robes; slippers; breezes; the cyber hut; wristbands; Tab bambleefled by things; nooks & crannies of the resort; columns; open air lobby; DJ in Boogie Woogie Bar who couldn’t mix salad (thank to Pat for that one); but then later as we passed I heard ‘Like A Prayer’ and wanted to run in there and start dancing; No End and No Beginning.

Fourth Full Day, night

Solar Eric said it was seven miles to the horizon.   Based on the curvature of the Earth.   I didn’t dispute him.   It sounded right, looked right.   He wouldn’t say how far to the cumulonimbuses lowest to the horizon.   “The sun needs clearance there, though,” he said, “right at the horizon.” Then, Pat I think it was, no Eric said that when there were real bad fires in Arizona a few years ago it shown up red in upper New York State.

Postscript

So that’s it, all I wrote on the trip.   Looking back, I wish I had writ more.   I thought I was going to finish off the moleskin I was writing in; I was on pace; I don’t know what happened.   I got too uptight.   I wasn’t feeling the group.   Maybe I just gave up.

“Respect!”

That’s what a Jamaican would say upon getting a good tip.   It’s a good saying, one I’d like to work into my repertoire.   When someone did something thoughtful for me.   The saying Keegan shared with me is, “One hand washes the other.” That’s a good saying to apply to being neighbors or friends.  

Before I forget, here is info about the resort where we were:

Grand Palladium Hotels & Resorts, A member of Fiesta Hotel Group of Spain
The Point, Lucea, Hanover, Jamaica W.I.
Fiestahotelgroup.com

I miss it.   I was comfortable enough there, even though I was uptight too often.   I liked the spacious room we had.  All of our rooms had meritable views.   B& I had just a piece of the ocean, which elated me b/c I’m used to a nothing view.   Brett & Tab had a bunch of ocean & the sunset.   From their balcony, straight down, a pot plant was growing.   A & P had plenty of ocean and an expansive shot of the resort’s courtyard, pool, the bar & restaurant ‘point.’ Quite a tremendous view.   We had the cove & the mountains to the south.  

I miss the state of mind I was in that allowed me to write what I’ve written.   I miss those mornings most of all, getting up rather early, the sun pouring in.   Making coffee, screwing around with the room’s electricity b/c the coffee maker kept going on & off.

The floors in the house now feel so clean.   The coffee we make here is not as strong.   I miss the quizzical weather, the illogical movement of the clouds.   I miss the sports bar, w/ pretty good burgers, good fries, & a plate of cheesy nachos afterward.   Rum runners.   I’ve been meaning to look them up in my bar book.

The transfer bus from the hotel back to the airport somehow left w/o us on it.   Even though B & I checked in at the bell desk fifteen minutes early & told them what travel group we were using.   So we all took a taxi that turned into an adventure all its own.   Our driver just about killed a guy.   We hopped off of the main road briefly (construction) and saw roads shaped by torrent.   Pot holes aren’t that big.   But we got to the airport in due time & tipped well ($70 for the ride, normally $75?) We gave $80+.

B bought coffee at the airport.   I worked on sudoku.   She got me some really pricey Wendy’s while I watched everyone’s bags.   Then I had most of a “beef patty” B got for a much better price than the Wendy’s.

The flight to Atlanta was fine.   Going through Customs & Border Protection was stressful but uneventful.   I brought back a few things.   I got some pizza from Sbarro’s during the half hour or so we had free before the flight to St.  Louis.   The ATL airport was very busy.   I hate layovers.   They are to be avoided at all cost — easy to say traveling out of STL.

Unbeknownst to us, the plane back to STL carried the remains of a soldier killed abroad — Iraq or Afghanistan I don’t know.   As we were preparing for landing (tray tables up, seats in an upright and locked position, ceasing use of any portable electronic devices) the captain says he needs to ask a favor of us.

Immediately I roll my eyes & figure he’s gonna ask us to stay patient b/c a la Lambert Airport there’s a plane occupying our gate & we’re gonna have to taxi for just a few minutes.   But then he says, “There are two military personnel on board escorting a fallen comrade home.” And would we please all stay seated until they have made their way off of the plane.

Whoa.   Yes, we can all do that.   So when we get to the gate, we are all seated (except for one douche bag who just had to get up & fish his iPhone out of his carry-on stowed overhead).   And sure enough two uniformed personnel come up the aisle from behind me & there is some applause.   I manage a few clammy claps but I’m thinking, “This is a funeral.   We don’t clap at funerals.   We should not be clapping.   We’ve got this all wrong.   We need to be somber, we need to be quiet.   That is how we can best pay respect.”

They disembark and Pat says, “OK, you can all go back to being assholes now.” Which was accurate but not funny.

I had a window seat, a few rows in front of the right wing.   Row 20-something.   Up ahead is the usual logjam of passengers gathering their stuff & filing out.

I look out the window the luggage team as it pulls up to our plane. Sometimes if I’m waiting to disembark I’ll watch as the luggage conveyor sets up & the luggage starts coming off of the plane. I’ll see if I can see my bag.

But then I see the two uniformed personnel out by the luggage conveyor & tram. The lead military guy, a short, stock red-haired fellow has an airport employee come up to him, explain something. The red-haired soldier quickly looks away, appears to bite his tongue. Then he looks up at the little windows. One, two, three, making his way down the line. And then he looks right at me. I can see the pain in this man’s eyes and the anger in him and also the humiliation he is feeling right then.

I avoid his gaze. Seconds later a rectangular white pine box starts its way down the conveyor. I can read the goddam piece of paper stuck to the top of the box identifying who, what is inside.

A crew of airport employees/pall bearers grab several straps attached to the bottom of the box. They have a hard time transferring it from the conveyor to the luggage tram and for a second I wonder if the box is going to fall to the ground. I cannot believe what I am seeing.

Not too long after that, the way off of the plane has cleared and I am getting off of the plane. I don’t know who else has seen what I’ve seen, how many other passengers. I didn’t hear anyone say anything about it. Fresh off of Jamaica & traveling, I did not even think about the fact that Memorial Day Weekend was nigh. It’s as close to either war as I’ve gotten, which is to say not very close.

We all crammed into one taxi and the driver left us off at the local A&P. I couldn’t wait to go get our dog. The next day was work, and what do you know? A three-day weekend after that.

The End