The mosquitoes in our apartment are big. Which is good; it makes them easy to smash. And they are slow. I was told that the small ones, harder to smash because of their quickness, are the ones carrying disease, like Dengue Fever. I don't want that. I live on the top of a small hill near an elementary school, overlooking the small cove full of bars and dive shops. There are no canals nearby, being on the top of the hill. These canals, I was also told, harbor the more dangerous and difficult to get mosquitoes. Canals are not like in Venice. More like small open storm drains.
We leave our door and window open during the day, which is how the mosquitoes get in. At night with everything closed up, there are only the couple of them around to hunt.
My daughter lives on another island and sleeps under a mosquito net. When I visit, I'm covered in bites when I wake up. A hand sticking out from under my pillow was mauled. Not mauled, poka-dotted. These were the small mosquitoes.
Some advice, use a sheet and cover your feet, hands, and neck in baby oil prior to sleeping.
Today is grey again. From where I sit I can look out over a channel between two islands where the boats, a few of them a day, come and go. I can see the white caps in the distance, where the wind has open access to the see. I can also see a small barge making its way through the channel slowly, with waves breaking in front of it.
I now wish for a spotting scope to get a closer look. I own too many things. I used to have a rule, that when I needed something, especially a tool, I'd buy it. A good rule for someone who has a permanent address.
My physical possessions are scattered about. Older things, such as books and old pictures and certificates, are at my mother's house in a few boxes. Some things in Manila, some in California, some at various friend's houses. Some I can't remember.
Having my things spread out feels a bit like diversified financial investments. A friend had many expensive thingsstored with a friend near Manila. Due to some falling outs, his things were picked through and sold by others at wholesal prices. Tools, clothes, construction materials for when he builds a house some day. Expensive things imported from Germany that you cannot buy here. Oops!
Most everything I own fits into boxes.
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I worry about money sometimes, but not obsessively. Lately I think I need to get a job. But what do I want to do?
I want a career in Asia! I can get some nice business suits and some kind of technical job in Singapore. They have great food. I've seen it on television. I don't want to live in Singapore. But it's close to many interesting places.
Maybe I could work in Afghanistan. Shit.
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I cannot write anything by hand. Impossible. My hand gets tired quickly, and my handwriting hasn't changed since kindergarten. If I were to write quickly, I wouldn't know what I wrote later. My computer is my friend. An IBM ThinkPad X31. The best computer ever made. I can take it completely apart and put it back together. I usedto have an X30, and half the parts from that are in my X31.
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Just got back from town. There are too many trike drivers in the town and no regular line for them. So all of them call out to you, "Go to Beach! Trike! Boat!" Before I just dealt with it by wearing headphones and ignoring them. Because they annoy the shit out of me. Today I didn't have headphones, so I just yelled back at them whatever they yelled at me. I got a lot of laughs from other people, not sure if they were genuine. I will keep with this tactic until everyone recognizes me and leaves me alone. Hopefully.
We bought pots for plants, groceries, made a new door key. Made an appointment to take drum lessons at a music studio.
Earlier today I tried on my new wetsuit. It's difficult to put these on, and perhaps due to my having a cold, I felt very tired and congested by trying it. Like putting on a big rubber over your body.
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Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping, into the future. The 17th already! It's hard to believe. What the fuck? I've gotten nothing done yet! Shit. Gotta start training again tomorrow. Got all these books to read. Get rid of them. Send them away. Keep some that I really want to read. Ditch the rest. Don't get sick. Wasting time. I deleted some stuff. Got to learn to stand on my hands. My head hurts. Not too bad, but like a balloon behind my eyeballs.
Watching American Idol auditions from Atlanta. It's funny to see the crazy people that acting out.
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I can remember the first time I started a diary. I bought a typewriter. I was in high school. I remember those first couple of pages that I typed. More or less what was on them. Stuff about myself. Maybe I imagine anthropologist finding my notes someday and a future colleges will have to study me. For sure.
I was sitting in my brother's basement room at our parent's in Illinois. His electric base was leaning against the weight bench and something was causing it to resonate and sustain one of the strings. Resonate. Did I understand what was happening at that time? Actually I did. I'm no Richard Feynman, but I did win an award for top Physics student at Hononegah High School, even after not completing my senior year. I'm cool like that.
And of course I stopped writing after those first few pages. I always stop. And start again. And forget where the time went. A pre-existing condition; I've always been a great procrastinator.
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The Philippine Jeepney. They look interesting and colorful in the postcard pictures. Most of them are junky, most old, rusty, broken down. Bare wires held together by the driver to sound the horn. I've been in a couple of them with a great stereo system.
I've seen then filled with gasoline, the fill valve directly adjacent to the driver, filled in a "gas station" on the side of the rode from a coke bottles, a lit cigarette dangling from the mouth of the attendant.
I've never seen a driver texting while driving. An accident will surely wipe out a month's worth of profits, if not end the driver's 'career'. However, money is taken and change is made while driving, shifting gears, and using to horn every few meters, looking for new fares. Like a video game.
Some jeeps cue in a line, departing when they're full. They are full when nobody can put both cheeps on the seats.
If you're with somebody, better to sit in the front seat. But not if you're along. You'll never know who'll sit with you. There's room for two plus the driver.
The jeeps are hand-made, built with scrap galvanized and stainless steel with a steering column and drive-train taken from junked Japanese passenger vehicles.
For this they do seem reliable. I've never seen one break down. Maybe I'm lucky.
In the passenger compartment, the roof and windows are too low to get a good look outside, so you better know where you are going and when to get off. There's no apparent reason for making the roof so low, as there is never glass in the windows anyway. Just plastic flaps lowered by the driver in the case of rain.
Filipinos are constantly stuffing themselves into small boxes.
Most jeeps are covered with random decorations, Mercedez emblems, and slogans that don't make any sense.
They are both an annoyance and convienence at the same time.
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