Well, I made it back from Punta Cana without dying of malaria or by random violence. It was actually really nice. It definitely makes me want to learn Spanish though. It’s so stupid that most of us up here in Canada stop taking French after Grade 9 and stick to good ol’ English (or was that just me?). Anyway, here are a few highlights from the week.

The Beach

The Bosom Buds

The Burn

Walking with my shirt off

I am going on vacation with my wife Jenn and a couple of pals so I won’t be posting for a good week and a half. Here’s a poem from my old site to read to pass the time.

………………………………………………

Fantastic Plastics

The red sun
The purple moon
The candy falling from the sky in June
The stars in sky
Look like chips
The sea is all-dressed
The lakes are dip
The grass breathes smoke
The dew brings fire
The leaves are all singing in a choir
The rocks are telling me where to go
A world with houses made of nails and toes
I see my bride
My one eyed beauty
I see the dog-eared police chief out on duty
My minds made up, I have to stay
or the jellybean clouds will fade away
I hate yous are forbidden
Goodbyes are not plenty
Success is not bought with any sort of money
Life is so peaceful
The world is so bright
The children are glowing in the purest of light
The gods are forgiving
Mother nature is kind
Perhaps there is no better place I could find

Oh no, children are squealing
Light is fading away
and I’m left with myself on this forgotten of days
I’m left with myself in this unforgiving world
Filled with mousey cocky men and around the block girls
I find haven in loneliness
I find shelter inside
There is nothing for me that this world can provide
The turtles are in shell
The ostrich in sand
So much for walking in the hand of the hand
Plastic people in plastic houses
with plastic cats and plastic mouses
They speak in a rhythm different from mine
Like an army of freedomless porcupines
They’re protected by spikes of hatred and fear
Their day to day duties are relentless and queer
I’m left to twiddle my faith and play jacks with my morals
and hide myself while the plastics have quarrels

My life has become a melding of plastic
which isn’t exactly really fantastic