Hawaii Is Good
for many things. For getting up at 4 am since your body can still be fooled into thinking it’s 9.
For catching up on that reading you meant to do years ago but could never quite get to.
For keeping abreast of the latest wonders of the Disney world of multiculturalism.*
For remembering all the words to “Cheeseburger in Paradise,” not to mention the complete Eagles and Jimmy Buffet songbooks.
For getting a tan, getting in shape, getting back in touch with the joys of rum.
But not so good for writing. Nope, not so good at all.
*See, the cute little brown girl thinks she’s adopted a dog, but he’s actually an alien. An evil alien. Get it?
23 June 2002, 7.58 pm
I’m sure Hawaii is good indeed, and I will say that those who complain about missing the quiz because they are “six hours behind the East Coast” while they sip their local volcano-grown coffee and try to count all the different shades of blue in the Pacific get no sympathy from me.
24 June 2002, 12.27 pm
Okay, yeah, I guess one can either bemoan one’s belatedness or sip a passionfruit daiquiri pool-side, but to do both seems somehow unbecoming.
25 June 2002, 11.15 am
Although the combo you describe sounds like H. Bloom’s recipe for a certain kind of late-in-the-game Decadent poetry…
25 June 2002, 12.10 pm
[in florid tones:]
Ah, BT, my dear sweet child….