Not As Hot as Mutiny-Makers

 

9-11-00 M 9:25 AM

9-13-00 W 2:00 PM

Ugh. This new batch of kids are pretty low-watt bulbs. I wish I had some weed. I need to get a CD stand and a few more sports card pages. Got a shitload of straightening up to do around the house. Got to call Rawler and Tim. I need a day off. I still haven’t finished writing about Costa Rica. I have to put a line to Jim. The DWP has been mischarging for the last six months, and now I owe them three hundred and sixty dollars. I have to take car of that jury duty hassle and pay off my credit card bills. Ugh. I haven’t had to write that sentence for a while. I paid the rent. Picked up furniture for the baby’s room from Riverside. I cleared that First USA card so that Rudy Wilson can charge us for the boat we chartered for the sailfish down in Tamarindo. [Ticket stub showing the smoking crater of Poas Volcano] So, we went snorkeling in Puerto Viejo. Bumped along south of town to a sweet little jungle beach with a few bikini-clad nymphs, the likes of which caused Mr. Christian to mutiny. I put on fins and mask and snorkeled along toward a few rocky caves in the rocks where the jungle hung into the cove. I saw a few dull fish. Rochelle was afraid of sharks. I was afraid of a swell dropping me on the reef and scraping my chest and stabbing me with urchins. The water was not very clear. A nearbv stream carried in silt to cloud the water. Water leaked into my nose through my mustache. After a while we got out. Rochelle apologized for not being as hot as the mutiny-makers. I pretended not to understand to what she was referring. A couple ex-pats sat sipping beers on the beach. Happy bastards.  They accepted death and thereby ended their capitalistic enslavement. We bombed along past palms, too a left at a fork in the road and stopped at Puna Uvas. More mutiny. The beaches were deserted but for a nymph or three. Only nymphs. Inexplicable. And one manatee. Mutiny on the manatee. We snorkeled around. The reef was extensive, the formations somewhat more remarkable. Brain coral and sea grapes—uvas. After about an hour we headed back. Drank Heinekens in front of the hotel room. Talked with a couple of girl tourists from the states just back from Cuba. The sky thundered and lightninged. We has some pizza with gorgonzola and some nasty wine. Then back to bed in sandy sheets that scraped my back, sunburnt from snorkeling.