Ah, well. Things down here have been quite hectic with the oncoming launch of Xaman. My writing partner is quite enthusiastic about the book, but I still have a few reservations. Anyway, I’m doing a lot of work with my limited online resources, like trying to get some bloggers interested in interviewing us (their usual response is who the $#!&! are you!), having the book highlighted (very little luck) and getting us a few advance reviews (completely s*** out of luck there), so I’ve been neglecting to update this blog.
Not that there’s much to tell. Life is in a complete standstill in this hellhole. A couple of days back, a lot of hoopla was up because Our Fearless El Presidento announced he was going to make drastic changes to the country’s economic policies. Everyone’s breath was held, expecting some major amends that would save us from falling down the cliff of economical collapse but no such luck. The usual creation of additional bureaucracy was announced. Nothing else.
It still rains constantly (almost daily) since the dry season ended about three months ago. I’m writing very little these days, with the exception of all the e-mail queries to bloggers who don’t even deign to answer them. Whenever Fate allows it, I chat online with Simone, who certainly has become a very important part of my life and my only beacon of hope during these dreary moments.
The only major change is that I’m now spending three or four hours each days, walking all over my place with a flyswatter in hand and killing every mosquito that dares to rest temporarily on the walls. As I suspected, the idiots who razed an acre of jungle a block over have altered the local ecosystem and now the entire area is literally swarming with black clouds of the damned bugs.
Since the walls are (or were) an off-white, and the darling little critters have just bit me or someone else, their surfaces now look as if some deranged impressionist had decided to paint a mural on them, with only black and reddish brown spots as main colors
I just called the hardware store and asked how much a gallon of white paint costs. The price was so staggering high (we have a crazy, runaway 80 percent inflation rate here in the South American boondocks) that I’ve decided I must live with this mess. Besides, it’s a moot point as the mosquitoes won’t go away until next dry season… which may be a couple of years away, anyway. It would only be a waste of good paint.
You know… it makes quite an interesting pattern… when you look at the walls with your head cocked sideways and squint a lot.
I wonder if I could sell the whole house to the Guggenheim Museum.