Day ?

Today the sun rose with great exuberance, and I found myself as sick as how the neighbor’s dog should (but doesn’t) feel after the many hours he spends lapping away at the seven or so outdoor washing machines. Obviously the perfect day to do my first dive. There was a break in last night at the dive shop, an individual smashed through the upstairs balsa wood vent and alleviated the pressure felt by the cabinet draw, missing was a many number of Lempiras.

My personal strength prevailed for once, getting me through the two dives (drum fish, moray, huge conch, leopard snail…) and many more. I spent the rest of the night writhing and reading, and another perfect coincidence; the neighbors decided to put their soundsystem to use with hours of terrible dancehall. Mark Twain saw me through, today after deliberation I decided to call him the first contemporary travel writer as well as the first Gonzo journalist. With all due respect to my still second favorite author Dr. Thompson.

A coconut would be more than splendid, but I cannot currently constitute the outside, the saturated sounds of what I’m missing on a Skid Row Saturday only taunt.