Life In Other Places

After 5 days on a secluded beach it has become apparent that I am very good at doing nothing. I can sit in a chair with a vacuum in my head and trot off to the beach for a dip whenever I deem it appropriate.

I can slowly peruse through dinner, lunch, and breakfast without breaking a sweat.

I'm not going to talk about how many books I brought for reasons that are my own, but even reading seemed difficult. If the person I'm mildly referring to gets a little excited here that she was right, my response is that there is a long way to go. I can devour books for breakfast, Huxley or no.

It's 7 in the morning, and I am waiting for a bus. I'm wearing the same clothes I have been wearing for three days because they remain the cleanest.

I think I have a flu coming on, and I had to get up three times last night to 'take care of business'. It might have been the sting ray I had for lunch, but the bus ride scares me. 10 hours is a long time to hold on.

I don't think I'll ever drink vodka again after this trip.

Yesterday I really missed my friends.

Seeing amputees in Cambodia scares me. A big part of me wants to jump country to Thailand, but one must do things that one doesn't want to sometimes.

My bus is here.