The slacker returns

I know, I know. What a slacker. The truth is, nothing earth shattering has occurred recently. Wait. I take that back. Today the earth literally did shatter, right into the ocean. I heard on the news today that a 16 acre shelf of lava recently formed by the current and ongoing eruption of Kilauea broke off into the sea today. It did so in chunks, sending steam plumes and debris from 200 to 1000 feet into the air. Pretty spectacular, huh? When the hot rocks fall into the cool ocean water, they do plenty of snapping, crackling and popping.
I spent a few hours at the Hilo Library today. It's really nice there because it's so open to the outside. There are rooms and tables with absent walls and views out into a garden courtyard of sorts. Very nice. It was peacefully quiet too for awhile, until a group of kids came in and sat at tables next to me. They were chatting away. I think they were confused and thought they'd gone to the cafeteria or the beach or something. So, I moved. What a stodgy old fuddy duddy I've become.
I promise to take some pictures this weekend. So tune in next week for some island eye candy.
A hui hou. Aloha.

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Born and bred

The creature stared at me, wide-eyed through the florescent glare, Saran Wrap stretched tight across its broad back. Alone in the seafood cooler, he was the only one of his kind, there among the farmed, color-added Atlantic salmon and mud-flavored tilapia, perched on a blue foam tray, legs tucked 'round him like a comfy kitten. He didn't blink. He was dead, red, cooked and chilled, ready to eat. Such a find is rare in the City Market fish department in Gunnison, Colorado. What if nobody takes him home? I thought. This beautiful animal will have died needlessly, ripped from his home, family and friends (Dory, Nemo, Crush and Gill?) only to be tossed in the trash when his expiration date came and went. I lifted him for closer inspection, checked that date, felt the heft of him, scanned his surface for cracks and blemishes. The creature was perfect. I lowered him back into the cooler, nodded farewell, turned to walk away, took one step, and stopped. Shoppers strolled past, stud

General goofiness

I was driving home from an abbreviated shift at work last night when I turned on the radio and heard Bob Dylan singing Everybody Must Get Stoned . I was reminded of a placard I once saw at a Dairy Queen in Colorado that read, Everybody Must Get Coned . So it occurred to me, there navigating through the misty darkness, that with a slight modification, this could be a great slogan for a number if different businesses. Here's my list. Telecommunications company: Everybody must get phoned . Cutlery shop and knife sharpening services: Everybody must get honed . Credit Union: Everybody must get loaned . Brothel: Everybody must get moaned. Winery: Everybody must get Rhoned . Fitness Center: Everybody must get toned . Local planning commission: Everybody must get zoned . Bio-research company: Everybody must get cloned. Doggy daycare: Everybody must get boned. Manufacturer of modern, unmanned spy planes: Everybody must get droned . Reader of corny mottoes and slogans listed on a chees

Re-writing Twain: Adendum

The best thing about rants, at least among the civilized, is that someone smart always makes a valid point to the contrary. My fellow University of Alaska Anchorage classmate, Wendy, directed me to this column, written recently for the New York Times by a writer I admire, Lorrie Moore . She's on both sides of editing Twain issue, and for good reason, posing the notion that maybe Mark Twain was never intended to be children's literature and that that is the problem. Give it a read, then tell me what you think, if you're so inclined. It was Flannery O'Connor who said, "The fact is that anybody who has survived his childhood has enough information to last him the rest of his days." No matter how idyllic one's childhood, no matter how hard grown ups try to protect their young charges, trauma happens, sometimes the likes of which no child should endure. Stories that reflect this are often the fodder for great literature, stories not necessarily suitable for y

Mountains and Islands

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