I don’t write in a journal everyday, but I have accumulated many entries over the past 50+ years beginning in 1966. Some items evolved into longer works. Among the leftovers little pieces survived. I thought a collection of these with a piece culled from the same date in a past year would make an interesting yearbook. The consistencies and inconsistencies of mind, skipping back and forth across time, provide varied perspectives. It is difficult to remember the context of the past we’ve lived; we also make suppositions about times that predate ourselves.

The few alterations from original drafts were to improve clarity. The worst of my work is not included. There remains enough mediocrity and immaturity to make me feel humble and you feel smart. There are also moments of accidental insight and incidental humor.

Author Stephen Crane referred to his little pieces as pills…apparently they were small and somewhat hard to swallow, but good for you.


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Wednesday, August 18, 2021

Action at Hapuna: just like a commercial

 

August 18, 1992  (I was 47)

 

Action at Hapuna:  just like a commercial

 

She was just another young blonde on the beach

trying to keep certain local boys just out of reach

but most certainly standing within their sight

They panted long enough to hope she also might

 

She thought she was cool as a rule

knew how long she could tease and fool

sifting hair in the breeze putting lotion to her legs

She doesn’t notice any Kane who sits up and begs

 

She wants the hunk hunched over plate lunch

knows his indifference is the coolest of stunts

She ambles nearer keeps the pack at bay

and thinks she knows exactly what he will say

 

Then a long brown nymphette in a g-string

hands a Coca-Cola to the Real Thing

“She’s so So-Cal, mama Hawaiian, she only 16”

whispers muttered by the dogs on the scene

 

The couple dash with boards to the surf

the blonde takes a towel to old people turf

You’d think some gentle kanaka might

hula on over with a lei and a Sprite

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