:: The S.I.C.L.E. Cell ::

:: Thursday, May 26, 2005 ::

Hola. I'm typing away from a little Cuban Internet coffee house. The beach house has no Internet access, however it does come equipped with multimedia players. They don't have much to play on these contraptions. Of the few Paleolithic VHS tapes provided, I noticed, much to my chagrin, a tragically worn copy of The Cider House Rules. It reminded me of the flu-bitten gal in the members-only pool the other day: barf and double barf.

Everywhere we turn in this very affluent community are Kerry bumperstickers and subtle reminders that the liberal elite love their "hard-earned" right to destroy living children. Under a thin veneer of beauty lies so much ugliness; the aesthetics of the ocean are transformed, overexposed in the glaring flashbulb of those who aspire to linger in the floating world satisfying their every carnal whim. The island is Lust and we are paying customers. I feel foreign here. I wake up, look out over the bay, descend the spiral staircase, and long to go home.

Don't get me wrong. God's beauty shines through where man forgets to paint black the windows of nature. That is worth the trip. Also, the oysters ain't half bad, and I'm one heck of a shucker.

Don't look now, but the shopkeep just delivered to my table the big ol' turkey Cuban that I ordered just so I could have Internet access for a milisecond on this strange holiday, so I needs must go.

"Hy-ever", one more thing...

I did the radio interview from the crow's nest of the beach house (scroll down the link until you see "Ashli"). Kim called and gave me fair warning: an hour until she would call for the interview. For an hour my stomach churned; I didn't want to do it, but knew that I should, that I must. (When I got off the phone I promptly got a stress-related fever blister.)

I didn't really know the questions in advance, and if you must know the truth, I'm not a good speaker; I don't think on my feet well. In short, it is my esteemed opinion that I sucked a butt. There were prime opportunities to say something of importance and I blew them.

I was asked to speak on the whole issue of maternal illness-related abortion and I muffed it completely. I got caught in a stream of incoherent gibberish instead of just saying something meaningful like, "Instead of wholeheartedly supporting abortion for maternal health reasons, people need to fight harder for better health care so that women have positive options otherwise certain medical professionals and HMO's will continue to victimize women and children (and families) by abandoning them to abortion when things get sticky or expensive."

3/4 of the interview went on this way: me talking and saying stupid things when I could have been rocking the Casbah for women, children and families.

The delete button... this is why I write, people.

:: ashli 11:49 AM # ::
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