marching on

6:20am. on the bus to school. elementary school. I've seen one other person reading a newspaper on the bus. now I'm writing. i wonder how this is perceived.

Upon my first visit of the farrington hwy home i did not perceive those subtle peculiarities of its occupants which now dig beneath my skin. not deep, but as if ants traversed my veins, tightrope walkers just below the surface, only enough to mildly irritate the man of steady nerves.
So in light of the silences and the stringent neurotic habits of one oddly obsessive housemate, i assumed this laughably tiny trash basket in the kitchen was only one of those images which makes this homestead of mine, individualized from the rest. my grandmother also keeps a tiny bin in the kitchen which she will empty twice a day if necessary. not unheard of.
This morning however, i looked down at the remains of my salsa creation from the night before. onion peels, tomato stems, cucumber shavings, all mixed in a heady steaming aroma of cilantro stalks and coffee grounds. and from this mass, situated precariously near the rim of the basket, (almost as if saying in a voice sounding oddly like george castanza, 'not trash') protruded a thick black conga line which danced around a small square of carpet by the sink and straight across the room, before ducking out beneath our front door. this morning i learned the reason for our presumptively humorous receptacle which requires emptying daily. one of many insect friends i will grow to love or despise here in hawaii. ants.

waianae

everyone i meet who lives or works on the leeward coast, everyone who has visited or just heard of waianae, makaha, or nanakuli, seems to have the same thoughts. this is not a place for tourists and haoles like myself to flaunt about as if they owned the ocean and the sand. the locals are very protective of this beautiful place they call home. many of the homeless have been pushed out of their 'homes' and up the coast. the road ends about seven miles north of here and the buses don't travel any further than makaha. families live on the beaches in clusters of tents and tarps. biking up to kaena point, i pass 'camps' that are everything but permanent establishments. stones have been stacked out in front of makeshift shelters to create a 'yard' space with paths and places to park. many own cars and have jobs. kids go to school. they simply can't afford, or dont want to pay for, expensive housing. however, meth also seems to contribute to the problem. i really feel like i haven't been here long enough to make any judgments. i even feel kind of presumptive to write this much. on the other hand, everyone also seems to agree that people here are very friendly. from my very limited experiences here, if you dont make trouble, it will not come looking for you. just dont stomp through someones 'front yard' towing a boogie board and a six pack. driving and biking, a smile and a wave of acknowledgment seems to go a long way. there are many good people living on the leeward coast. this is a bizarre experience that i am enjoying and expect to learn a lot from. there is much more to learn.

pineapple exclaimation

I wish I knew someone here who would appreciate/tolerate my ranting about how wonderful this pineapple is. It is good. Very good. I can't write it down. so ripe and juicy. wow.