shark attack?
Another post that I have come to think of a tweener (only it is not, it is blogging at its most pure), not literature not even poetry. Just (mostly non-random) musings from the endurance tip. The odd thing is, a few days since my last post, I am getting more views than ever. Honest writing catches on?
The mapping of the destruction of Boracay's remaining behind-the-beach nature continues apace, there really are no sacred areas of green. The Boracay equivalent of People's Park, the fertile remnants from which would have been carved a Fort de Russy (Waikiki), if not a full Tulum (yoga-bicycle fulcrum) are being dug into, fitted with girders. The permit-happy legacy of Mayor Yap, who publicly espoused a "slow-growth" policy is exposed as worse than fraud––nails in the coffin of what they called Paradise.
Only it is not technically so... a rolling stock of 20 year (now five year) leases means that theoretically, through some mass awakening to what actually draws meaningful visits to Boracay, reverberations could be made. The concrete punctured, the sand let run free. In this a concrete jungle, oh yeah... where the living is hardest.* And the current mayoral election happens in May––opportunity for timely writing, for once? I'll throw together a proposal for the NY Times, sure.
The real progress now is in the grim underbelly of the creative process. With Cowachunga moving under its own steam, I am conceptualizing Boracay (the novel™) to fit in somewhere with Fabric apps, Mindanao excursions to the roots of flute, DJ-flute twinings (whether at Aplaya with DJ Rio or at some gym-rat Manila studio).** Let the bitter taste of self-predicted defeat fade, as inner spirits rise with syncopated clawhammer, double-thumbed attack
* Damon A. Shulenberger aka (SEO alert) Endurance Writer. Making a mockery of renegade Hemingways of 140 words. Fabric a must.
*Speaking of which, have you seen the Beijing highway to Ocho Rio plan on an island called Jamaica? "Diana McCaulay of the Jamaica Environment Trust said it would involve the destruction of Goat Island, including wetlands, coral reefs and the largest remaining area of intact dry limestone forest in Jamaica. It was being pursued, she said, with no discussion or transparency."
**The lead track to be entitled, appropriately, Shark Attack (megaphone voice, endless whistle-accented beats), "If you are in the water, stay in the water, shark attack) Dooop dooop doop doop.... huffa huffa week week––cue sinuous tribal flute, run backwards through a splice-synthed loop, Skrillex-Beiber at its utmost....hot bodies in Cancun swimming pool extravaganza, unlimited tequila... okay, as envisioned this track is the ultimate sell out. Baby needs to eat.
The mapping of the destruction of Boracay's remaining behind-the-beach nature continues apace, there really are no sacred areas of green. The Boracay equivalent of People's Park, the fertile remnants from which would have been carved a Fort de Russy (Waikiki), if not a full Tulum (yoga-bicycle fulcrum) are being dug into, fitted with girders. The permit-happy legacy of Mayor Yap, who publicly espoused a "slow-growth" policy is exposed as worse than fraud––nails in the coffin of what they called Paradise.
Only it is not technically so... a rolling stock of 20 year (now five year) leases means that theoretically, through some mass awakening to what actually draws meaningful visits to Boracay, reverberations could be made. The concrete punctured, the sand let run free. In this a concrete jungle, oh yeah... where the living is hardest.* And the current mayoral election happens in May––opportunity for timely writing, for once? I'll throw together a proposal for the NY Times, sure.
The real progress now is in the grim underbelly of the creative process. With Cowachunga moving under its own steam, I am conceptualizing Boracay (the novel™) to fit in somewhere with Fabric apps, Mindanao excursions to the roots of flute, DJ-flute twinings (whether at Aplaya with DJ Rio or at some gym-rat Manila studio).** Let the bitter taste of self-predicted defeat fade, as inner spirits rise with syncopated clawhammer, double-thumbed attack
* Damon A. Shulenberger aka (SEO alert) Endurance Writer. Making a mockery of renegade Hemingways of 140 words. Fabric a must.
*Speaking of which, have you seen the Beijing highway to Ocho Rio plan on an island called Jamaica? "Diana McCaulay of the Jamaica Environment Trust said it would involve the destruction of Goat Island, including wetlands, coral reefs and the largest remaining area of intact dry limestone forest in Jamaica. It was being pursued, she said, with no discussion or transparency."
**The lead track to be entitled, appropriately, Shark Attack (megaphone voice, endless whistle-accented beats), "If you are in the water, stay in the water, shark attack) Dooop dooop doop doop.... huffa huffa week week––cue sinuous tribal flute, run backwards through a splice-synthed loop, Skrillex-Beiber at its utmost....hot bodies in Cancun swimming pool extravaganza, unlimited tequila... okay, as envisioned this track is the ultimate sell out. Baby needs to eat.
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